


The Heart Asks Pleasure First

by SwanAuthor



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Lieutenant Killian Jones/Princess Emma Swan, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanAuthor/pseuds/SwanAuthor
Summary: Lieutenant Duckling/Captain Swan AU. The Dark Curse did not happen, and the Jones brothers serve a king at war with Misthaven. When an honorable lieutenant crosses paths with a lost princess, will fate help bring them together or tear them apart?This story will cover a good bit of ground. There will be a slow burn initially and plot twists. Changes to characters and storylines from the show are meant to serve the plot of this AU.Ratings/warnings may be changed as the story progresses.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a labor of love inspired by a recent re-watch of the Once Upon a Time series. I welcome all feedback, and I'll admit that I find reviews highly motivating. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

The calm seas did little to diminish the unease Lieutenant Killian Jones felt.

A gnawing feeling had settled in his chest not long before the _Jewel of the Realm_ had left port—when their passengers for this voyage had boarded.

One was a woman of roughly sixty, with dark brown hair streaked with gray and chestnut eyes, and the other two passengers were her armed escorts. The woman had smiled as his older brother Liam—the captain of their ship—had helped her onboard the vessel, but the smile just didn't seem genuine. Something else was in that gaze of hers. Killian could sense it, and he'd shared those concerns with his brother.

"Stop your worrying, little brother," Liam had replied. "The king has tasked us with an important quest. Lady Cora is going to lead us to a means of peacefully ending these ceaseless wars. The king has assured me of this."

"Younger brother," had been Killian's response. He rarely argued with his brother about their responsibilities on the ship. Killian knew the importance of duty and good form, and he was always willing to hear Liam's guidance on those subjects. When it came to the adjectives Liam used to describe him, though, Killian often felt the need to correct his older brother.

Liam's explanation of King Francis' current mission for the _Jewel_ had appealed to Killian. It sounded like the Jones brothers had received a noble assignment, one that would show their honor and worth. This hero's quest would finally bring peace to their realm, but even that fact couldn't change Killian's view of Lady Cora. She might have a role to play in this, but she still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and no matter what his brother said, Killian couldn't shake the feeling.

"This task will be over in a matter of days," Liam had reminded him.

They'd made it through one day of this journey so far. Killian just hoped the remaining days would pass, and that his brother would be proved right—that they were going to save the people of their homeland, and that Killian's doubts about Lady Cora were misplaced.

* * *

Princess Emma wore her hunting frock as she scaled down one of the side walls of the castle. It wasn't an easy task, and she couldn't have managed it in the more ornate gowns she wore to perform her royal duties. She needed this simple dress to help keep her balance and her grip.

As she looked to the ground—still more than twenty feet below her—she wondered if she had done anything so reckless in her life.

Emma knew her parents probably could have provided a few examples. They always considered her to be too adventurous for her own good, but she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Could they really be surprised that she was bolder than a princess should be?

_But this might be crossing a line_ , a voice in her head warned as Emma continued her descent. The voice sounded oddly like her godmother, Lady Regina.

Regina meant the world to Emma. Regina had helped to raise her, and she had even taught Emma how to control the magic within her.

Emma's magic would have made her progress down the wall much easier, but there was also a possibility that Regina might sense Emma using her magic. Emma couldn't risk that. She needed to do this on her own.

This was Emma's chance to find true love.

She'd received the first letter from Baelfire just over a month ago. Emma had met the Dark One's son not long before that. He had arrived at her parents' castle with his father, who sought to make a deal with the royal couple. The Dark One's offer would mean an end to the war that had raged on for years with King Francis' kingdom, but as Regina often said, "All magic comes with a price."

Emma never heard the Dark One's price for his assistance; all she knew was that her parents were unwilling to pay it. She could understand their decision. The Dark One wasn't known for fair or kind deals.

Emma had been walking through the Great Hall as the Dark One and his son were preparing to leave. She'd curtsied before them, and when she looked up, Emma's eyes had met Baelfire's. No words passed between them—just that look, and then the father and son had disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Her mind had drifted back to that look in the days that followed. There was a sadness in Baelfire's eyes, but there was also a glimmer of hope when he looked at her. Emma didn't understand it, but something about that look haunted her.

Then the letter had arrived. Deposited on her windowsill by a raven, the scroll was not lengthy, but it described the impression that Emma had left upon Baelfire. He too had felt a connection during their brief meeting, and now this letter asked for Emma's permission for them to begin a correspondence.

It had felt exhilarating to read his words and to compose her own response. He made it seem as if he already knew her through his understanding of her duties and her magic, and all of the concerns that came with those responsibilities. Baelfire's letters showed true interest in Emma in a way no suitor had ever displayed.

Her former admirers had always arrived at court speaking of her beauty or sweetness, but Emma could read people. She knew that they were more interested in a throne or the wealth of her kingdom than they were in her.

Thankfully, her parents had never pushed her into a match. They wanted her to be able to find love, just as they had. And now Emma had reason to believe she might be close to finding it.

Baelfire's letters contained so much hope and possibility. He was certain that together, he and Emma could convince his father to aid Emma's kingdom at no cost. They would stop the war with Francis, and Misthaven could once again prosper.

She reached the ground with that thought in her mind, and her now free hand grasped the silver swan pendant that Baelfire had included in one of his letters. Emma wanted to make sure she hadn't lost it during the climb down.

Emma was finally meeting with Baelfire tonight, after sharing so many thoughts and dreams with him. She wanted to have the necklace on to show him that his gift meant something to her—that he meant something to her.

She knew it wasn't proper to meet with a man unchaperoned, but Baelfire's words had spoken directly to her heart. From his letters, Emma could tell he was a good man with good intentions. He'd said that he wanted to tell her his plans tonight for how he would ask for her parents' blessing to court her. His only request was to tell her this in person, rather than through parchment and ink.

And Emma had agreed. Her mother always told her to trust her heart, and her heart had brought her this far tonight. She knew she needed to follow it for only a half mile further—to the edge of the forest, where Baelfire would be waiting.

* * *

"Emma!" she heard a voice cry out quietly as she entered the forest.

She turned toward the voice and saw Baelfire. He and his black horse were illuminated by the moonlight.

He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Did you have any trouble leaving the castle?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I apparently know the castle better than the guards."

Baelfire chuckled at that, but then an awkward silence followed. Emma found it odd—words passed so easily between them in their letters. Why did things feel so different now?

"How was your journey here?" Emma asked, trying to end the uncomfortable moment.

"Not bad," he answered. "I got here earlier than I'd expected."

"That's good," she replied, before trying to find another topic of conversation. "So what do you think of it?" Emma asked, resting her hand on her chest just below the necklace.

"What?" Baelfire questioned. "The necklace?"

His reaction confused Emma. There didn't appear to be recognition in his eyes.

"You sent this to me three letters ago," she stated. "You said that I reminded you of a swan the first time you saw me."

"Of course I did," he replied, trying to sound confident, but Emma took a step back—a feeling of worry entering her mind.

"Wait," Baelfire said, taking a step back himself. "I'm sorry. I'm flustered to speak to you directly. I guess that's why I wrote to you. It just seems easier to form the words on paper than in person."

"But you said you wanted to meet _in person_?"

"Right," Baelfire said quickly. "You're right. I did want us to meet here, face-to-face. Seeing you that day and in the letters we wrote after, I see some hope for the future with you."

There was truth in his words, Emma could tell, but there was something else too. She couldn't place it. She didn't know if it was just nerves, or if she'd built this moment up so much in her mind that anything short of perfection seemed disappointing.

And then there was her father's voice in the back of her head saying, " _If something doesn't feel right, listen to your gut and run._ "

Emma shook her head slightly at that. Looking back at Baelfire, she thought of the kind words that had filled his letters, and the potential for peace for her kingdom.

It was nerves—it had to be.

"Based on your letters, I'm guessing your father doesn't know about our meeting?" Emma asked.

"No, he doesn't," Baelfire answered. "And I'd recommend not mentioning his name. Doing that sort of thing tends to invite him to join any conversation."

"I won't," Emma replied. Trying to find common ground in their conversation, she added, "My parents don't know about our meeting either."

"That's probably for the best. I don't know that your parents would've approved—of the letters or of this meeting," he said, with a sly smile on his face.

"You're right. My father probably would have challenged you to a duel for being so forward."

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to make the most of tonight," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand to her. "Come for a ride with me?"

"I thought we were only going to talk tonight—about what you're going to say to my parents when you ask for their permission to court me," she replied.

"Right," Baelfire said, making it once again seem like he'd forgotten what he'd written to her. "I guess I just want to start sharing things with you. I can understand if you're not ready."

His tone sounded hurt, as he turned away from her.

"Wait," Emma said, trying to calm the nerves that were plaguing her this evening. "I do want to share things with you. We've shared so much in our letters already. I just want to be prepared to let my parents know what's between us."

"I understand," he replied softly, looking back at her. "May I ask for one thing first—before we decide how to tell your parents?"

Emma nodded silently in reply.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

Emma was taken aback. None of her prior suitors had reached this point. She'd never had enough of a connection with any of them to allow it, but now, the words from Baelfire's letters ran through her mind.

_You have such a true and pure heart…_

_I've lived with magic for nearly my entire life. I understand the struggles you've no doubt faced, and I can help you going forward…_

_You will make a great queen one day…_

His words hit upon her deepest fears—that she wouldn't be able to live up to her parents' expectations, that she might not be able to handle the magic inside of her, and that she might not be good enough. As heir to her parents' throne, she knew how easy it would be for her to fail in one way or another, but Baelfire's words had comforted her.

_Together, imagine the people we could save, and the world we could build…_

_We could be heroes, just like your parents…_

Her parents' love had been sealed with a kiss over twenty years ago, and there was a chance for this to be her moment with Baelfire.

"Yes," she whispered, and he quickly crossed the distance between them.

It wasn't what she'd expected. His right hand had gone behind her neck, squeezing there and pulling her toward him. His lips against hers felt careless and completely wrong. She tried to pull back when she felt something being pressed against her right wrist.

Baelfire released her then, and she looked down to see a leather cuff on her lower arm. A feeling of cold swept through her body, but she knew there was no wind or storm in the air tonight.

"What did you do?" Emma demanded of Baelfire.

"What needed to be done," Baelfire replied, a harsh tone in his voice as he walked to his horse.

"What are you talking about?"

"Everything comes with a price—not just magic," he answered. "You're the price I have to pay to get what I need in life."

Baelfire had a small bag in one hand and a rope in the other as he turned back around to face her.

Emma knew she was in a dangerous situation now, but she'd had years of training from Regina and her father to prepare her for a fight.

Her first instinct was to use her magic. She tried to follow her feelings just as Regina had taught her, but there was nothing—not even a faint glow of magic from her hands.

Baelfire must have seen Emma looking at her hands, as he said, "The cuff won't let you use your magic. Now how about we do this the easy way."

When the magic failed, Emma wasn't going to just surrender. She grabbed a large branch from the forest floor and prepared to defend herself.

"Just give up already, princess," Baelfire said. "You're not going to win this."

"What makes you so certain?" Emma asked.

"You learned your lessons from good people—on the light side of magic," he answered. "Do you know who I learned my lessons from?"

A shiver of fear ran down her spine at Baelfire's words, but still she stood, prepared to face him.

"Very well," Baelfire sighed. "The hard way it is."

He opened the bag in his hand and tossed the contents toward her. Green powder flew through the air and slowly turned into the shape of a serpent.

Emma tried to swing at it with the branch, but it was no use. The branch went through the powder, breaking the serpent for just a moment before it reformed. The snake then wound its way around her neck several times before Emma felt a piercing pain just below her ear.

The creature may have been made of powder, but its bite was as painful as a knife.

She cried out as she lost the ability to stand. Emma was on the ground, and the world around her was becoming hazy. Through the fog, she could see Baelfire approaching.

"I would say sweet dreams, princess," he said darkly. "But I know there's only nightmares ahead for you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd started posting this story on another site, but I'm now in the process of adding it to AO3. I'll post a chapter each day here until I'm caught up, and then chapters will be posted roughly once a week (or more frequently depending on inspiration levels and my work schedule).
> 
> I appreciate your feedback!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

The _Jewel_ reached its destination an hour after sunset. Killian was unfamiliar with the port. He knew its location from his extensive study of maps during his time at the naval academy, but he had never visited the place. It was too near the border of King Francis' enemies for any ship in their fleet to dock there long.

"We'll need to move with haste, Captain," Killian told his brother on the deck, while the crew made the final preparations to bring the ship into the port.

"I'm well aware, Lieutenant, but we also need to make sure that Lady Cora completes her task successfully," Liam replied.

They always used rank in front of the crew, rather than calling each other by name. It helped make it clear that Killian received no special treatment for being the Captain's brother.

"Do we know anything of what Lady Cora is going to retrieve from this land?" Killian asked.

"I've told you everything that the king shared with me," Liam answered. "Whatever Lady Cora needs from this land will bring peace to ours. I don't need to know anything other than that."

"But Liam—" Killian began in a quiet tone.

"Remember who you address, Lieutenant," Liam interrupted.

"Captain," Killian said firmly, but still in a hushed voice. "Why didn't the king tell you what she's supposed to obtain here? What is Lady Cora hiding?"

"Lady Cora is a trusted adviser to our king," Liam replied sternly. "To doubt her is to doubt his leadership, and as officers in the royal navy, we have sworn our loyalty to our king. Do not let me down, brother, by neglecting your oath and your responsibility to our sovereign."

Liam's words cut Killian deeply. To let Liam down, after his brother had helped to raise him and had given him purpose in life, Killian could imagine no greater shame. Any further argument from Killian died on the spot. He might not have complete faith in Lady Cora, but he did have faith in his older brother.

"Captain," Cora called to Liam as she joined them on the deck. "My men and I will be heading inland as soon as possible."

"My lady," Liam replied, "I understand that we are in unfriendly territory, but should we not wait until morning? I am responsible for your well being on this voyage, and I believe it would be safer to wait for first light."

"How sweet," she answered, "but unnecessary. Time is more important to my cause than daylight, and I cannot afford to waste a moment. However, both you and the Lieutenant may accompany me tonight to make sure all goes according to the king's plan."

Killian bit his tongue to keep himself from asking what the king's plan was exactly. He wouldn't embarrass Liam in that manner.

No, Killian would do his duty and follow Lady Cora's orders, even if his instincts were screaming at him to do otherwise.

* * *

They were on horseback for three hours before Cora called them to a halt.

No other travelers were on the road at this late hour, and nothing about this situation seemed heroic to Killian. Dark dealings in the dead of night felt more like villain's work.

He kept silent, though, rather than voicing these opinions to his brother. Lady Cora and her guards were near at hand, and Liam had made it clear earlier that it was not Killian's place to question the king's adviser.

The sound of hooves on the road ahead distracted Killian from these thoughts. Soon enough, a cloaked figure on a black steed was before their group.

"So you're here, _finally_ ," Cora said, irritation apparent in her voice. "And it appears you've failed to live up to your end of the bargain."

"I've done my part," the cloaked man said, removing his hood. "I'm just not fool enough to hand over something that valuable without guarantee of payment."

Killian saw the man's olive skin and unkempt brown hair through the moonlight, and he appeared to be close to Killian in age. Given the circumstances in which this meeting was taking place, Killian could only assume that this man had not used honorable means to obtain whatever item Cora was after.

" _Bad_ _form_ ," sounded in the back of Killian's mind looking at the man, but for his brother's sake, Killian pushed that thought aside and remained quiet.

"How shall we proceed then?" Cora asked the man. "I don't intend to provide payment until I'm certain I have what I came for."

"You have what I came for?" the man questioned.

Cora removed a vial containing a dark red liquid from a chain about her neck. "This potion is what you seek," she answered, holding up the vial. "It will make it impossible for him to find you, no matter how hard he tries."

The man moved closer to Cora, his hand outstretched as if he were ready to take the potion immediately. Cora pulled her arm out of his reach, though, as her guards drew their swords and placed themselves as a barrier before her.

"Now, now, Baelfire," Cora said menacingly, raising her free hand. "You can't expect me to hand over this sort of payment without making sure it's worth my while. You're going to have to be more cooperative."

The man named Baelfire reached for his throat franticly at Cora's words, as if something were choking him.

Killian had little experience with magic, but he knew that whatever had taken hold of Baelfire was not natural. The way the man gasped for air and clawed at the empty space around his throat—it was like watching a man drown without a drop of water in sight.

It wasn't right—Killian was certain of that. His hand went to the hilt of his sword instinctively, but he was unsure of himself. What could a blade do against magic, he wondered?

The tension broke, though, before Killian could act.

Baelfire rasped out the words, "You win," and Cora released her hold on the man.

Once he was able to breathe again, Baelfire backed up, appearing to accept Cora's terms. "Your prize is in a cave not far from here," he said. "I'll tell you exactly where once you hand over that potion."

"And you know that I will make you pay for it if you lie to me," Cora said in a sinister tone.

Baelfire nodded, and a smile formed on Cora's face.

"Did you follow my instructions?" she asked.

"All of them," he replied dryly. "The powder, the cuff, and all tied up in a burlap sack for you to decide what to do with. Knowing you, you're probably going to have some fun there. I'll be glad when I no longer have to be part of anything like this again."

"Yes, your part in this will be over," Cora said, her smile becoming cruel as she handed over the potion. "And you'll simply be the reason that I was able to accomplish so much with my prize. Hopefully, you'll be able to live with that."

Killian didn't fully understand the conversation between Cora and Baelfire, but their words did little to ease the disquiet in Killian's mind.

Baelfire's face showed a brief scowl, before the man greedily removed the cork from the vial and drank down the blood red potion. Whatever was in the small bottle caused him to shiver fiercely, but he soon stilled, and a smile appeared on his face.

"A mile up the road," Baelfire began. "You'll see an old dead tree split in half. Head west from that tree until you find a stream, and from there, head north. The stream will take you right to the cave."

Killian could see a broad grin appear on Cora's face once the man had finished providing the directions.

"It's been a pleasure making this deal with you, Baelfire," she said with a darkness to her tone.

Baelfire's face turned grim upon hearing Cora's words. The man looked away from her and kicked his heels into his horse, riding away from their party.

"Now, gentlemen," Cora said as she turned her attention to Killian, Liam, and her guards. "There's something I need to retrieve."

They followed the path Baelfire had described until they reached the cave, and concern continued to rage within Killian.

This was wrong, and he knew it.

"Captain, you and the Lieutenant may remain here," Cora stated, before one of her guards helped her to dismount. "My men and I shall return shortly."

Once they were out of sight, Killian turned to his brother.

"Liam," Killian began, pleadingly, before he was cut off.

"I know, brother," Liam stated plainly. "Something is truly amiss here, but we can do nothing for it right now."

"We can handle two knights," Killian argued. "And Cora—"

"And Cora is a sorceress," Liam interrupted. "It must be dark magic she possesses based on what we just witnessed. She must be deceiving our king," he insisted.

"Do you think she has enchanted him?"

"Possibly," Liam replied. "If so, we will need to proceed carefully, brother. When we return to our kingdom, I will disembark quickly and quietly, so that I can inform our king of Cora's true nature. I will need you to make sure that Cora leaves the ship slowly to give me the time I need. Can you do that, brother?"

"Aye, Liam," Killian said, a feeling of relief washing over him now that he knew both of them were in agreement. His eyes went back to the cave, as he asked, "What do we do about whatever Cora is here to collect?"

"If it's as dark as she is, we do what we can to destroy it," Liam answered. "Otherwise, we deliver it to our king."

Killian nodded at his brother, accepting the plan he'd set forth. He watched as Cora and her guards soon emerged from the cave, one of the knights carrying a large bundle over his shoulder.

Killian could not tell what the object was—wrapped and bound as it was, but he knew that he would follow his brother's orders. He would either destroy it or hand it over to King Francis.

* * *

The first thing Emma recognized as she regained consciousness was pain.

Her neck was throbbing just under her right ear, and she wondered what she'd done to cause an injury there.

As she tried to raise her hand to inspect the spot, she realized that her wrists were bound together.

The fear Emma felt made her jolt awake. The events that led to her current state flooded her mind.

Baelfire had betrayed her—taking away her magic and knocking her out painfully.

She checked her right wrist. The cuff was still there. She tried maneuvering her fingers in an attempt to remove it, but the cuff wouldn't budge.

Her magic couldn't help her now.

She looked around her to see if there was anything that could help her—a weapon so that she could defend herself, a tool to cut the bindings—anything.

She was on a bed in a small, dark room. There was a wide window behind her, and Emma could tell it was still night.

It was an oddly designed room, with strange angles and a ladder going to some sort of doorway above.

As she tried to stand, Emma suddenly understood the room and, more importantly, where she was. She could feel movement through the floor below her.

She was onboard a ship.

Concern entered her mind. Emma knew she could swim, but depending on how far out to sea they were, swimming to shore might not be possible. And she wouldn't have her magic.

Regina had taught her to travel from one part of the realm to another using only a simple spell, but what would Emma do out in the middle of the ocean with no magic?

"Oh dear, you look upset," a feminine voice said from one of the shadowy corners of the room.

A woman stepped forward. She raised her hand, and candles were lit around the cabin.

"Who are you?" Emma demanded.

"Now, now," the woman said scoldingly. "Is that any tone to take with family?"

"You're not my family," Emma replied. She'd never met the woman before her, and no one in Emma's family would put her through this.

"Well, my daughter was your step-grandmother for a time," the woman said. "And I believe she's now your godmother."

"Cora," Emma spoke, unable to hide a note of fear from her voice.

Cora had waged war on her family for decades, murdering Emma's grandparents and torturing her parents and godmother through horrible acts of cruelty.

"You were banished to another world," Emma said, trying to recover from the shock of encountering one of her family's greatest adversaries.

"Banishment is such a temporary situation," Cora replied. "Really—I thought I'd taught Regina to be stronger. She should have killed me if she'd wanted to prevent the devastation I intend to cause."

"We'll stop you," Emma stated, her courage returning. "My family has always found a way to defeat you."

"But what makes you so certain of that, child?" Cora questioned. "Look at your own circumstances. Your world will be nothing but pain from this day on."

"My family will find me," Emma said. "We always find each other."

"Unfortunately, for you," Cora began, "they will be looking in the wrong place."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked.

"In the morning, your parents will find you gone and a series of love letters you'd received from the Dark One's son," Cora replied. "No doubt, they'll think the two of you ran off together. They won't know of your kidnapping for some time, and that cuff has been enchanted to do more than simply take away your magic. It also means that no locator spell will be able to find you."

Emma's mouth went dry. Why didn't she tell anyone where she was going tonight, or ask Regina or Red or someone to accompany her?

Another thought flashed in Emma's mind—did Cora's involvement explain how everything had gone wrong tonight?

"Did you do something to Baelfire to make him betray me?"

"Oh, silly girl," Cora stated, moving closer to her. "You truly thought that he loved you? Regina should have taught you—love is weakness. Look what it did to you. You so desperately wanted love that you believed a man you didn't even know was writing letters to win you over."

"What are you saying?" Emma asked.

"I wrote those letters to you," Cora said. "I made you believe you'd found someone to love, and I even convinced you to leave all the protections of your castle. Once I'd drawn you into the trap, I just needed to determine what price it would take to make the boy play his part tonight—and he played it quite well, didn't he?"

Cora's hand moved up to brush against the bruised skin on Emma's neck, making Emma pull back.

She felt ill. It had all been lies. She'd opened her heart to someone—and it turned out that someone was just an illusion created by one of her family's worst enemies.

"Why are you doing this?" Emma questioned. "Haven't you caused enough suffering?"

"Not nearly enough," Cora replied, sinisterly. "Delivering you to King Francis is just the first step."

"King Francis? He's your ally in this?"

"Of course," Cora answered. "Who else hates your family with such passion?"

"What do you plan to do? Demand that my family pay you and Francis some sort of ransom?" Emma asked.

"No," Cora said cooly, in a way that made Emma shiver. "Francis isn't going to ransom you off; he intends to keep you."

"What?"

"You have such untapped potential with that magic of yours. Regina never taught you how to make the most of that kind of power, and it's too late to change your path now," Cora explained. "But your children—there will be such potential in them. I'm not the only one who's seen it. What do you think the Dark One asked for from your parents when he offered them his help? It was a price they were unwilling to pay, wasn't it?"

Emma backed up until her legs connected with the bed frame. She couldn't move far enough away from the vile woman in front of her, and she didn't know what she could do. She couldn't fight Cora without her magic—Emma knew that would be pointless.

She was on a ship headed to Francis' kingdom, and her family wouldn't be looking for her there. Who knew how long it would take them to figure out the truth and find her? And what would happen in the meantime?

Emma felt so lost to despair that she didn't hear another person enter the room until he was only a few feet from her. She turned to look at the man and saw raven hair, an enemy's uniform, and a drawn sword.

She could only assume he served Cora or Francis, but suddenly he raised his blade at Cora.

"Step away from the lady now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in this story! Your kudos, comments, and bookmarks are truly fuel for this writer's soul and creativity.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!

Since returning to the ship, Killian had kept his guard up. He was ready to carry out Liam's plan, but they wouldn't be able to act for at least two days. The tides weren't favorable for their return journey, and the extra time was going to be difficult for Killian to bear.

He tried to do as Liam had suggested and rest while he could, but sleep remained illusive. Instead, he roamed the ship, performing inspections and keeping busy, as his mind sorted through what should be done. Killian wanted to be better prepared for the task ahead, and he knew that finding out what Cora had brought onboard the _Jewel_ might be useful to them.

Cora had ordered her guards to bring the bundle onboard and stow it in the Captain's cabin. Liam had given up his room on the ship to Cora as soon as she had arrived. It was the largest room on the _Jewel_ , reserved for the Captain or any honored guests who traveled with them.

Liam took up lodging elsewhere on the ship, so that Cora was the only occupant—along with whatever it was she'd retrieved from that man Baelfire. Her guards were stationed outside of the two main entrances to the cabin—one at the hatch above deck and the other at the doorway below deck. Those were the primary entrances to the room, but as Killian and Liam knew, they were not the only ways into the cabin.

There was a third door, hidden from view, that connected the Captain's cabin to the Lieutenant's.

Killian had debated how he would use this knowledge to his advantage. He eventually decided that he would wait until Cora had left the cabin in the morning, and then he would investigate what was in the bundle.

With that plan in mind, Killian made his way to his quarters. After the long day he'd had, his bed finally seemed appealing.

As Killian closed his door, though, he could hear a voice through the wall.

" _…I'd drawn you into the trap, I just needed to determine what price it would take to make the boy play his part tonight—and he played it quite well, didn't he?_ "

Killian knew the voice belonged to Cora, and he also knew that he needed more information. He questioned whether Cora was speaking to someone through some magical means, or if there was someone else in the room with Cora. No one else should be in the cabin based on the comings and goings Killian had witnessed tonight.

The only other thing brought into the room had been the burlap sack and whatever might be inside it. Hearing Cora's voice, a realization flashed through Killian's mind that the sack had been large enough to contain a human being.

That thought pushed Killian to open the hidden door just a sliver—wide enough so that he could see the room's occupants.

There were two—Cora and another woman.

The second woman was young, fair-skinned, and blonde. Killian also noticed that her hands were bound.

He watched as Cora approached her, and he saw her flinch as Cora tried to touch a violent bruise on her neck. Killian caught a glimpse of a swan-shaped pendant on the woman's neck, but there were no other identifying features. Her dress was plain; there were no insignias or designs that indicated who this woman was or where she'd come from—just the swan necklace.

" _Why are you doing this?_ " the Swan woman asked Cora, in a defiant tone Killian could appreciate. " _Haven't you caused enough suffering?_ "

" _Not nearly enough,_ " Cora replied, sinisterly. " _Delivering you to King Francis is just the first step._ ”

" _King Francis? He's your ally in this?_ "

" _Of course,_ " Cora answered. " _Who else hates your family with such passion?_ "

Those words caught Killian's attention. He and Liam had wondered what exactly King Francis knew about Cora—whether he'd been deceived by her or perhaps placed under some spell.

" _What do you plan to do? Demand that my family pay you and Francis some sort of ransom?_ " the Swan woman asked.

" _No,_ " Cora replied. " _Francis isn't going to ransom you off; he intends to keep you._ "

" _What?_ "

" _You have such untapped potential with that magic of yours. Regina never taught you how to make the most of that kind of power, and it's too late to change your path now,_ " Cora explained. " _But your children—there will be such potential in them. I'm not the only one who's seen it. What do you think the Dark One asked for from your parents when he offered them his help? It was a price they were unwilling to pay, wasn't it?_ "

Killian couldn't listen to more of this.

His king knew of Cora's plans for this woman, and what's worse, Francis was a part of these foul schemes. Killian had always believed in his duty to his king, but now, knowing that his ruler lacked honor, Killian could not stand by.

This wasn't right, and he needed to stop Cora here and now.

Killian entered the room and drew his blade on the sorceress.

"Step away from the lady now," he stated firmly.

"Oh, Lieutenant," Cora said, turning toward him. "I thought I had asked not to be disturbed. Perhaps you should go back the way you came."

"No," Killian said. "You cannot be allowed to carry out this plot of yours."

"Careful, Lieutenant," Cora replied. "I'm merely carrying out the king's orders, and your words are starting to sound treasonous."

"If the king's orders are what you just described, then there is no honor in them," he said. "And I will no longer follow them."

"Very well," Cora said, before waving her hand and throwing Killian against the wall.

He dropped his sword at the impact, and while he'd expected to fall with the blade, Killian realized that he was still suspended a foot from the ground. It felt like there was a weight on his chest trying to drive him into the wall.

"It is always a pity to waste a handsome face," Cora added, as she moved towards him. "Shall I keep you and just ensure you remain obedient, or shall I dispose of you now?"

"Let him go," the Swan woman stated in a tone that made Cora go still.

The younger woman had managed to grab Killian's sword despite her bound wrists, and she pressed the blade against Cora's back.

"Do you honestly think you'll succeed, girl?" Cora questioned.

"I think I can run you through faster than you can cast your next spell," the Swan woman said confidently. "Now, let him go."

Time seemed to speed up then. Killian felt the weight lift from his chest before falling gracelessly to the floor. A cloud of smoke appeared before him, and suddenly, Cora was gone only to reappear a moment later behind the other woman.

It was as if the Swan woman had anticipated Cora's action. She swung herself about as soon as Cora had vanished, and she was poised to strike.

But Cora was one step ahead of her. Cora froze the blade in midair before throwing the younger woman across the room.

The door from the lower deck burst open then. The commotion from the fight finally seemed to have drawn the attention of one of Cora's guards. The man was closest to Killian and advanced on him with his sword drawn. Killian regretted dropping his sword earlier, but he recovered using the knife on his belt. He blocked the guard's first strike and managed to push him back with his boot.

Killian leapt to his feet and shoved the guard across the room. He then slammed the man's arm against the wall repeatedly, trying to make him drop his blade. Finally, the guard's grip slackened, and the blade fell. Killian felt for one brief moment that he might at last have the upper hand.

Then a piercing, gut-wrenching scream tore through the room, and Killian realized his mistake. He should have remained mindful of Cora.

She stood over the Swan woman, who was now writhing on the floor.

"How painful the next few years of your life will be, your highness, is entirely up to you," Cora stated in a ruthless tone. "If you don't wish to spend them in agony, you're going to need to learn to behave."

Cora's words— _your highness_ —caught Killian's attention, as he tried to hold the guard at bay. Cora had spoken earlier of King Francis' hatred of the Swan woman's family, and there was no greater enemy to Francis than the royal family of Misthaven. Another scream from the Swan woman, though, and he didn't care whose family she belonged to. Killian needed to save her from Cora.

Killian was trying to figure out what he could do to stop the witch when the guard's knee connected with his gut. Killian was knocked backward by the blow, but he knew he had to keep his wits. He dove and managed to reach the fallen sword before the guard could retrieve it. With a lunge, he drove the blade into the man's stomach and let him fall to the floor.

Before Killian had a moment to catch his breath, the hatch above him opened. Killian looked up, waiting for the second guard to appear, ready for a fight.

Killian did not expect the man to come falling through the hatch and land on the ground at his feet. From the look on the guard's face, Killian could tell the man was dead. He glanced back up to see his brother descending the ladder with his sword drawn and a determined look on his face.

Hope returned to Killian at the sight of his brother. He knew that together, they would be able to defeat this witch and win the day.

"Lady Cora," Liam said sternly. "In the name of the king, you are hereby under arrest for the crime of kidnapping. Your man confessed his guilt and yours before attempting to attack members of my crew. He has paid for his crimes, and now it is my duty to bring you to our king so that you can face punishment for yours."

"Really, Captain?" Cora questioned. "You honestly believe the king would punish me for bringing him exactly what he wanted? Both you and your brother—with your foolish sense of duty and honor—it amazes me that you've managed to survive in this world."

Cora raised her hand, and Killian could no longer move. She closed her hand into a fist, and both Killian and Liam fell to their knees.

There were men moving on the deck above them. The crew was no doubt waiting for Liam to return with Cora as his prisoner. Killian knew how their men thought. Liam's prolonged absence would drive them to investigate. With the crew's help, they would outnumber her twenty to one. Killian doubted that even Cora could handle such odds.

But Cora seemed to read his thoughts. With another wave of her hand, the two main entryways leading into the cabin slammed shut, and based on the struggles he could hear outside, there was no easy way to open them.

"Now, who deserves an honest lesson in the realities of life?" Cora asked harshly before moving in front of Killian. "You dared to threaten me with a blade tonight, Lieutenant," she stated.

"Do your worst, witch," Killian said with a gasp. Whatever hold she had upon them made breathing painful, but Killian was determined not to show fear.

"Bravery," Cora sighed, as if she found his efforts pathetic. "And loyalty," she added. "Look at the two of you. So willing to fight and die for what you believe in."

"Stop," a weak voice said from across the room.

Killian looked to see the Swan woman trying to stand, but leaning heavily on a beam for support. He could tell that she was in pain; she had bruises and blood upon her face to show for it, but it was impressive that she was still fighting.

"Stop," she repeated. "I'll go with you to Francis. Just let them go."

Cora walked toward her and stated, "You'll go with me whether I let them go or not. This," Cora continued, gesturing toward Killian and Liam, "is a lesson you need to learn. One that your mother or Regina should have taught you long ago. Your life doesn't belong to you, foolish girl. It belongs to those with the power to take it and bend it to their will. Any attempt on your part to change that fate is futile. And any efforts by others to help you will only mean their doom."

"Cora, don't. Please don't," the Swan woman pleaded.

"I see that you truly do need a better understanding of the world," Cora said plainly. "It should help you in accepting what awaits you with Francis."

Killian and Liam were both still frozen, as Cora turned back to them. She moved toward Killian first.

"I believe you said, 'Do your worst,' didn't you, Lieutenant?" she questioned. "I'm curious to know what you think my 'worst' is. Do you think it's simply a quick death, where you'll believe that your last acts were heroic?"

She stroked her fingers down the side of his face in a caress that made his skin crawl.

"That's not even close to my worst," Cora stated coldly. "My worst for you will be to make you see that there was no glory in your actions tonight—only costly mistakes. Do you love your brother, Lieutenant?"

Killian's eyes moved from Cora to his brother.

"I suppose I can take your silence as confirmation," she said, as she walked toward Liam.

Cora continued, "From what I've seen, you look up to your brother. You wish to make him proud, don't you? Now, Captain," she began, addressing Liam, "will you be proud of your brother for being the cause of your death?"

"No!" Killian cried.

Liam remained calm, as he said, "Witch, whatever happens here tonight, you are the cause. You are a vile and hateful creature, and one day, you will face a reckoning for your crimes."

"Brave words," Cora replied. "I've heard them before. Do you think your brother will remember them as he dies tonight, or do you think he'll only remember how he was the one that led you to this moment?"

Cora's hand then drove into Liam's chest. When she pulled it back out, a bright, beating heart was in her grasp. She squeezed, and Liam winced in pain.

She had Liam's heart. Killian shuddered to think what Cora would do next.

Suddenly, though, Cora was knocked over by the Swan woman, and both of them tumbled to the floor. There was a struggle that didn't end in Cora's favor. The younger woman managed to backhand Cora, disorienting the witch long enough for her to retrieve Liam's heart.

Still unable to move, Killian watched as the Swan woman made slow progress toward Liam. She had his heart in her hands, and she kept them outstretched until she was only inches away from Liam's chest.

But then all forward movement stopped, and the Swan woman appeared to be frozen as well.

"Stupid girl," Cora said as she rose and moved toward the other woman. "You are too weak, too inept to save anyone. It was pointless to even try. Now it's time to watch the cost of your failures."

Cora took the heart from her, and right there, between his brother and the Swan woman, Cora began to squeeze. All eyes were on the heart, as she slowly crushed it into dust.

"I love you, brother," were the last words to leave Liam's lips before his body fell to the ground.

"Liam!" Killian yelled, but his brother's body lay motionless.

"Love is weakness," Cora stated, before she waved her hand, making the Swan woman stand. "As for you, I can't have you being this disagreeable and disobedient for Francis."

"Murderous bitch! Stay away from her," Killian bellowed, rage coursing through him. His brother's killer was still alive, still causing pain and suffering, and Killian couldn't lift a finger to stop any of it.

"Now you're beginning to understand my worst," Cora said gleefully, before returning her attention to the younger woman. "Where were we? Oh yes, a lesson in obedience."

Cora thrust her hand into the other woman's chest, and Killian couldn't look. He wasn't going to watch another heart being taken.

An unexpected cry of pain from Cora, though, drew back Killian's eyes. Cora's hand was still inside the Swan woman's chest, but it appeared her efforts to remove the heart were failing. Cora kept tugging, but a white light was emanating from the younger woman, and from the way Cora cringed, the light was clearly hurting her.

The light continued to grow more brilliant, and Killian would have shielded his eyes if he could move his arm, but for now, he squinted into the brightness.

"You think a protection spell over your heart will stop me?" Cora asked painfully.

"Yes," the Swan woman answered, with a confidence that Killian couldn't help but believe.

Suddenly the light seemed to explode around them, and both Cora and Killian were thrown back. Killian went to move his hand to push himself up and realized he'd regained control of his body. He saw the unmoving form of his brother beside him. Killian knew that he had to see to his brother's body, but first he needed to drive his sword through a witch's heart.

He retrieved his blade from the ground and made his way to Cora. The witch was rising to her feet, so Killian quickened his pace before she could unleash another spell.

Just as he reached her and moved to strike, though, Cora vanished in a cloud of smoke. Killian punched his fist against the wall in anger at losing his target.

"Now, now, Lieutenant, no need to be upset," he heard Cora say from across the room. "You have your life, and while I may not have her heart, I at least have what I came for."

Cora had one hand pinning the Swan woman's bound arms down in front of her, and the other hand held a dagger to her throat.

"Release her now," Killian said firmly, raising his blade to Cora.

"We've been in this situation before," Cora replied. "You know how it ended last time. Would you like to see me remove the hearts of every member of your crew?"

Killian hesitated. He had no advantage here, no way of stopping the witch.

"As I thought," Cora said smugly. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your days as an outcast. You'll have no peace from this day forward. Your last memory of your dear brother will always be how you failed him. And soon your king will hunt you down and slaughter you and your men for your treason. Goodbye, Lieutenant."

Killian saw the familiar smoke begin to billow from the ground, and he knew that the witch was escaping and taking the Swan woman with her. He could throw his blade to try to strike Cora, but there was a risk he might harm the other woman in the process, so he stayed his hand.

A bright light filled the room then, and the two women were pushed apart. Cora went backward, and the Swan woman was flung forward in his direction. Killian instinctively lowered his blade and used his left arm to catch her and steady her against him.

"Another protection spell?" Cora said, sounding exasperated. "This isn't over. You're going to give me exactly what I want, and your family will be made to suffer in the meantime. Enjoy contemplating that as you wander lost in oblivion."

The ship shook violently at the witch's words, and Killian held the Swan woman tighter to him.

He looked back at Cora in time to see her disappear one last time in a cloud of smoke. Killian's eyes scanned through the room, but he saw no sign of the witch.

The rough movements of the ship came to an abrupt stop, and Killian looked toward the window.

Instead of the predawn darkness Killian had expected, a bright, midday sky lay outside the window.

"Where the bloody hell are we?" he asked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story features inspirations from Once Upon a Time, sources outside of that show, and a few ideas of my own creation. I will give credit to those other sources in later chapters, but for now, I'm trying to avoid spoiling future storylines.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left comments, kudos, and bookmarks! I greatly appreciate your support, and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

Emma had no idea where Cora had sent them. Before she could explain that to the stranger next to her, though, the hatch above them opened, and she could see feet descending the ladder into the cabin.

She tensed, not knowing what to expect after everything that had transpired in the last few hours.

"They're my brother's…" the stranger began before hesitating. His face became sterner as he continued, "They're my men."

Emma didn't know what to make of the man beside her. He wore the uniform of a naval officer from Eirinn—King Francis' country, and he clearly served on the ship that had assisted Cora in abducting her. She didn't know why he'd acted against Cora, or if she could trust him, but at the moment, she didn't have many options.

He turned to look at her then, and Emma was met with startling blue eyes. There was anger and determination in his gaze, but she saw those emotions replaced with compassion the moment he realized her hands were still bound. Moving with purpose and precision, he quickly sheathed his sword, drew a knife, and cut the ropes.

"I know who you are, _princess_. Say nothing to my men regarding your identity or why you were brought here," he insisted quietly, so that the approaching men would not hear.

"Lieutenant," an older crewman began in a somber tone, "the Captain…." The man's eyes focused on the body on the floor.

"Aye," the Lieutenant responded. "Cora murdered our beloved Captain using dark magic most foul."

"And who's that? Is she the one Cora's man said he kidnapped, or is she with Cora?" a stout, grim-faced man asked, pointing at Emma.

The Lieutenant moved to position himself in front of Emma, before explaining, "She's another victim of Cora's. I am providing her with refuge onboard the _Jewel_ until she can be returned to her home."

"And when will we return home, Lieutenant?" a voice called from the back of the cabin. "The sea's changed. The sky's changed. We ain't anywhere near home."

"No, we're not," the Lieutenant stated loudly. "This is all Cora's doing. That wicked demon killed our captain and threw our ship off its course. But I swear to you, I will not rest. I will bring us home, and I will avenge our captain. No matter how long it takes, I will find a way."

The dozen or so men that had crowded into the cabin cheered at the Lieutenant's words, but Emma felt chilled by them. She could understand the pain he was no doubt feeling at the loss of his brother, but she also knew that vengeance could be a dark and dangerous path.

Emma didn't have long to dwell on her thoughts, though, as the Lieutenant soon began sounding off orders.

"Barton, Hale—clear the filth off the floor," the Lieutenant said, directing two burly men toward the remains of Cora's guards. "Warren," he said to the older man who'd first asked about the Captain, "you'll stay to help me with my brother."

"Aye, sir," Warren replied.

"The rest of you," the Lieutenant called, "return to your posts. We lay to rest our Captain within the hour."

Emma took a step back, as the crewmen departed the cabin. She headed toward the window and folded her arms in front of her. She shivered, still unable to shake the feeling of cold that ran through her since Baelfire had placed the cuff on her wrist. Now she also had to contend with an unnerving sensation in her chest from Cora's failed attempt to remove her heart.

Needing to clear her mind, Emma stared at the horizon. Over the course of a day, she'd been through too much. She was stuck on an enemy ship, in the middle of nowhere, with no magic, no resources, and no family or friends to help her. On top of that, Cora was back from exile, working with Francis and threatening her family's safety.

Cora had even killed a man right in front of Emma—someone who'd tried to help her—but Emma had failed to save him.

Emma didn't know how long she stood at the window, contemplating her circumstances and struggling to hold onto to any sort of hope, but noises behind her drew her away from her thoughts.

"Murphy!" the Lieutenant beckoned for another member of his crew.

Emma could hear feet rushing down the ladder, and a young man's voice replied, "Aye, sir."

"Go and fetch Master Flynn. Tell him that his services are needed," the Lieutenant commanded. "And when you return, bolt the hatch to this cabin shut from the inside."

Emma focused on those words. She didn't know what was going to happen on this ship, and she needed to know the escape routes that were available to her.

"Once you've done that, you are to stand guard outside the cabin doorway," the Lieutenant added, "and see to any needs that our guest has. Understood?"

"Aye, sir!" Murphy replied.

Emma heard swift strides behind her, and turned to see the Lieutenant approaching. "You'll remain here in this cabin for the duration of your stay," he said, his tone cold but not harsh. "Master Flynn is the ship's surgeon. He'll see to your injuries."

"Lieutenant," Emma began in a hushed voice, to ensure that only he would hear her. "I appreciate the assistance you've provided to me, but what I truly need at this moment is your candor." The man looked taken aback, but didn't interrupt. "I don't know you," Emma continued. "I don't know anyone on this vessel, and with everything that's happened, I need to know where I stand. Am I your prisoner?"

"You are a guest on the _Jewel of the Realm_ , and no harm will come to you aboard this ship," he replied more gently. "As for knowing who I am—Lieutenant Killian Jones, at your service." He made a small bow with his introduction, but his face remained stoic.

"And when we reach Eirinn, what happens then?"

"I have no intention of turning you over to the king or his sorceress," he said, his tone bitter as he mentioned Cora.

"Why? Why would you help me?" Emma asked.

"Because it is the honorable thing to do," the Lieutenant answered. "Because it is what my brother would have done," he added quietly, as he looked away from her.

"Lieutenant!" a man called from the hatch. "You're needed at the helm, sir."

"Excuse me," he told her, before leaving the cabin.

The Lieutenant had been honest with his answers—Emma could tell that. Despite his assurances, though, she didn't believe that she should drop her guard.

She'd trusted Baelfire too quickly and too easily, and that was the reason why she was now faced with her current predicament.

Emma knew that she couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice.

* * *

The last few days had been the most agonizing in Killian's life.

Not only had he lost his brother—his only family in this world; but he also felt as if he were losing everything else.

Killian knew that although he still had the _Jewel_ and his crew, he was letting them down. He'd spent the past two nights examining the stars, and it was clear that they were in unknown waters. He had no idea how far they were from home, or how long it would take to return.

They only had supplies for a fortnight. Their original journey with Cora was meant to be brief, so there had been no reason to stockpile more resources.

Killian had his men searching for any sign of a port or land. If they could only locate some form of civilization, there might be an opportunity to acquire new maps that would allow him to chart a course home.

He'd gone through every map and atlas in his room, and none of them had provided the answers he needed.

He knew that Liam had kept other navigational resources in his cabin, but Killian hadn't ventured there yet.

He was loath to admit it, but he was avoiding the Swan woman. It seemed like an impossible task to face her. He couldn't even muster the courage to ask for her name. It was foolish. Killian had spent his life studying the sea—not the members of every foreign royal family, so he had no idea what the Princess of Misthaven was named. He just kept calling her the Swan woman in his mind—and did what he could to keep any thoughts of her to a minimum.

Killian was helping this cause through his avoidance of her. He hadn't spoken to her since he'd left her in the Captain's cabin, and the last time he'd seen her was when she'd come above deck for Liam's funeral.

He'd told Murphy to make sure she stayed in the room after that, and to bring anything she needed there.

This meant that three times a day, Murphy left the hall to go the galley and fetch food for her. Each evening, when Killian was ready to retire for the night, he relieved Murphy so that the lad could rest. Killian didn't remain in the hallway for his shifts, though. Sleep had been evading him since Liam's death, so he spent his nights at his desk, reviewing every map he could find. He knew that he would be able to hear the woman from his own cabin if she needed anything.

But the Swan woman didn't need much apparently. She accepted the three meals each day, and visits from Flynn to see to her injuries, but otherwise, she asked for nothing.

That suited Killian fine; he had enough to worry about without factoring the Swan woman into his troubles.

But the rational part of his brain knew there was more to his behavior toward her. He couldn't face her because of the guilt he felt. He shouldn't have gone along with Cora's mission, or at least he should have tried to stop Cora sooner.

This was one more reason he felt lost. He'd spent his life trying to walk an honorable path and serve his country and his king. And what had his years of service and sacrifice brought him? Right now, Killian only felt bitter and hollow. His sense of honor—one of the traits that Liam had helped to instill in him—seemed damaged beyond repair because of the corrupt deeds Francis and Cora had drawn him into.

Dark thoughts filled Killian's mind as he reflected on his failings. Perhaps they wouldn't be in this mess if Killian had only done more— _if only he'd been more_. If he hadn't been so weak in his fight against Cora, if he hadn't been so naive as to believe the lies of his king, if he hadn't valued duty above his sense of right and wrong—perhaps Liam would still be alive.

He slammed his fist against his desk in frustration.

" _Captain?_ " Warren's voice called from the hallway outside.

The men had started calling him Captain after Liam's funeral. Killian knew he hadn't earned the title; he wasn't half the man his brother had been.

He tried to shove that assessment of himself and other more troubling thoughts aside, as he opened the door to his cabin.

"I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed, sir," Warren said.

Killian needed a decent night's rest and familiar waters, but he knew his first mate couldn't help with either of those matters. He was going to dismiss Warren, when an open door to his left caught his eye.

It was midday. The lad should be standing watch, and the door should be closed.

"Where the bloody hell is Murphy?" Killian demanded. He walked into the Captain's cabin, looking around before asking, "And where the bloody hell is she?"

"They're above deck, sir," Warren replied. "I assumed you knew, Captain."

No, he didn't know that the ship's youngest deckhand and its only passenger were blatantly disobeying his orders. But Murphy would soon learn that there were consequences for such insubordination, and the woman—it appeared Killian couldn't keep ignoring her. Someone needed to make her see that being a princess did not give her free rein everywhere she went.

He went up the ladder and undid the bolt sealing the exit. From the helm, he scanned his ship, looking for the woman. She was easy to spot. At the bow of the ship, he could see long golden hair waving, caught up in a breeze from the sea.

Murphy was standing ten feet from her, appearing to give her space while still keeping a close eye.

Killian went to Murphy first. Disciplining a crewman seemed easier than speaking to the princess.

"Murphy," he stated as he climbed the stairs to the bow. The young man jumped to attention upon hearing his name. "What were your orders, lad?" Killian asked sternly.

"To stand guard outside the lady's room and to see to her needs, Captain," Murphy answered.

"Based on those orders, this doesn't appear to be your post, does it?"

"Aye, sir…I mean, no, sir, it's only just…" Murphy stammered, before finally glancing at the princess.

"It's only what, Murphy?" Killian asked.

"Well, the lady, sir, she said she needed air, and given that I was supposed to see to her needs, I didn't know what else to do," the young man replied.

"Ask first before you take the lady anywhere," Killian voiced firmly. "Is that understood?"

"Aye, sir," Murphy replied, hanging his head.

Killian knew the importance of maintaining discipline on the ship, but he couldn't bring himself to berate the lad. He could see the shame on Murphy's face, and knew the boy was already punishing himself for his error.

"Now go and see if Barton needs any assistance in the galley," Killian said. "I'll let you know when you need to return to your post and guard the lady."

"Aye, sir," Murphy replied, before hurrying below deck.

Killian sighed before moving to face the more daunting challenge ahead of him. He'd never been skilled at conversing with ladies of his own social standing, and before him stood a princess. If Liam were here, he would know exactly what to say and do.

Thankfully, she made matters easier by speaking first.

"I hope I have not caused the boy to be in a great deal of trouble," she said, referring to Murphy. "That was not my intent, Captain."

"Perhaps that wasn't your intent, my lady, but do you not understand why I ordered that you remain in your quarters?" Killian asked, knowing that he was already failing to hide the frustration from his tone.

"Because I am onboard an enemy ship," she stated plainly. "Because if any of your men discover who I really am, they might very well kill me—given the way your people view mine. That's why you've had me conceal my identity, isn't it?"

The woman sounded brave in her tone, but Killian could perceive an undercurrent of fear as well.

He could understand her concern. She'd been forced upon this ship by the cruelest woman Killian had ever encountered.

"I told you that no harm would come to you while you are on this ship," Killian said. "I can't undo what's happened to you, but I give you my word that I will do everything within my power to keep you safe until you can be returned to your homeland."

From the look on her face, Killian could tell that she was not completely satisfied with his answer.

"As for my crew," he added, "they are not some band of murderous pirates. I know that they would not harm you simply for being a princess of Misthaven."

"But?" the woman said, urging him to continue.

"You heard Cora before she departed," Killian explained. "She intended to tell Francis of my act of defiance, and blame not only me but also my men. They will be in danger the moment we return to our realm, but I know that some of them will still want to return. They have families and lives waiting for them. Men in such circumstances may choose to act out of desperation rather than good form. If they knew who you were, they might try to use you to bargain with Francis."

"So, you're removing that temptation by not telling them who I am?"

"Precisely," he answered. "Besides, you've never officially given me your name, so in truth, I've nothing to tell my men about you."

"Oh," she replied quickly, but Killian could see she still had questions. He found it odd how easily he could read her.

"Whatever it is, just ask it," Killian said.

"You voiced concern about your men acting out of desperation," she began. "What about you? Don't you have a family to return to?"

"The last of my family died at Cora's hands," he answered somberly.

"I'm so sorry," she said earnestly.

"You aren't the witch that killed him," Killian said. "You have nothing to apologize for, and nothing to worry about from me," he added. "Francis stopped being my king the day I realized he'd aligned himself with such a devious fiend as Cora. I've seen how she would use unholy weapons to help him fight his wars. That is the way of dishonor, and I will no longer follow him."

"And so now your plan is to avenge your brother?" she asked. "My family has fought against Cora for decades, and she isn't like other adversaries. She's ruthless. You should be careful, Captain."

Killian realized in that moment that no matter how difficult he found conversation with some women, he was going to need to talk more with this one. She had more information on that witch than anyone else he knew. Perhaps she could help him find a way to defeat Cora.

But he also knew that more lay ahead of him than just his revenge. First, he needed to find a way for his ship to return to familiar waters—then he could focus on destroying Cora.

Looking back at the Swan woman, he realized he hadn't responded to her advice; he'd become too caught up in his own thoughts.

" _Breathe, little brother,_ " Killian remembered Liam telling him once when he'd tried to educate him on how to speak with a lady. " _And if all else fails, agree with them. Women are usually right anyway._ ”

Liam's words rang true in this moment. The Swan woman had told him to be careful when going after Cora; Killian didn't find it difficult to agree with that.

"As you wish, Swan," he said finally, but without thinking. He hadn't meant to voice his name for her out loud.

"What was that?" she inquired.

"Nothing," he faltered, as he tried to recover. "It's just—the men and I—we'll need to call you something while you remain onboard. 'Swan' seemed as fitting a name as any given your pendant."

She quickly moved to hold the pendant in her hand—covering it from view. A flash of something akin to sorrow appeared in her eyes, but just as suddenly it was gone.

Killian feared he'd offended her, but her demeanor was once again pleasant as she replied,"Swan would be fine, Captain. Thank you."

"Not at all…Miss Swan," he responded. "Now, to continue my candor with you—I don't know how long it will take for me to find your homeland or any recognizable waters for that matter. In the meantime, I would ask that you exercise caution. Please remain in the cabin unless you are escorted by either myself or Mr. Murphy. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," she answered.

"And there are also several maps and books in the Captain's cabin that might be useful in determining our location," Killian added. "With your permission, I'd like to retrieve those resources from your quarters."

"Of course, Captain," she replied. "Anything to help us find a way home."

Killian saw her shiver slightly and rub her hands against her upper arms. She was trying to be subtle about it, but Killian realized that she had no coat, cloak, or any other belongings aside from the dress she currently wore. He noted to himself that they would need to remedy that at the next port they found, if not sooner. For the moment, he could at least bring her below deck, where it would be warmer.

"You're cold, my lady," he stated. "If you'd like, I can escort you back to your cabin."

"That would be fine," she said, heading toward the stairs. "You can also go ahead and retrieve the items you need."

"Only if it's no intrusion," Killian replied. She smiled at him, and Killian felt warm, despite the steady wind blowing against him.

They made their way below deck then, and Killian offered her his hand several times to help her traverse the various obstacles in their path. She accepted his help, and Killian found himself regretting the coarseness of his hands upon feeling the softness of hers. She didn't turn down his assistance, though, and Killian felt the strange warmth returning.

They reached the Captain's cabin faster than Killian had expected; he'd never before thought the _Jewel_ was too small.

He gathered up several maps and charts and began to take his leave.

As he exited the cabin door, he heard her call out to him, "Captain."

Killian turned around to see her with her hand on the doorknob and a small smile back on her face.

"Emma…Swan," she said, giving him a curtsey as she tested out the new name. "At your service," she added before closing the cabin door.

Killian then entered his own cabin and placed the new navigational materials on his desk. He closed the door to the small room and leaned his head against the frame.

He shouldn't be distracted. He should be poring over the maps he'd just acquired. He should be focusing on how to make their supplies last longer. He should at the very least try to sleep so he wouldn't pass out on deck from exhaustion.

Despite all of the things that he knew he should do and all the concerns crowding in his mind, Killian couldn't stop himself from thinking of shimmering strands of hair, soft skin, and a rare, kind smile, as he let out a brief whisper.

" _Emma…_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today--so please be sure to read Chapter 4 if you have not done so already.
> 
> I appreciate all of the support expressed for this story! Your comments and kudos are highly motivating.
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!

The ship beneath her might have been moving forward constantly, but Emma felt like she was going nowhere.

A candle sat on the table before her, and no matter what she did, it remained unlit.

She'd thought back to her trainings with Regina. Her godmother had always said Emma's magic was different. Regina had worked hard for every ability she possessed, whereas Emma had been born with a natural gift for magic.

If her gift was failing her now because of this infuriating cuff, then Emma thought perhaps she should try Regina's method—hard work.

She tried clearing her mind, steadying her breathing, and focusing on the candle. She contemplated the burned fibers of the wick and the dried remnants of wax drippings until she knew every inch of it. Her eyes stung from unbroken staring at the candle, as though blinking might diminish her concentration.

An hour later, there was still no flame, and Emma's patience was wearing thin.

She'd already tried everything she could think of to remove the restricting piece of leather on her wrist—short of cutting her hand off—but it hadn't budged.

Then she'd attempted to just ignore the cuff. She'd thought that if she could just summon up enough raw emotion, she might be able to push through the confines of the enchantment, but that effort had left her feeling devastated. Her situation was bad enough as it was; diving deeper into her current sorrows was just making her misery worse.

The deckhand had shown up at that point, asking if she was ready for her lunch. She knew she didn't need food at that moment; she needed to breathe.

Murphy was at least five years younger than her—just about her brother Leo's age, and he seemed like a kind, young man. He'd hesitated at her request—no doubt considering his orders and the possible punishments for not following them—but once his light brown eyes had turned back to hers, she knew he was going to agree.

"Alright, miss," he'd said in a hushed voice. "But we'll have to be quick about it. Captain won't like you wandering about the ship."

And Murphy had been right about that. The Captain had found them, and she could tell he wasn't pleased with her decision.

He'd sounded annoyed as he spoke with Murphy, but Emma was grateful that the Captain hadn't been too harsh with the deckhand.

She'd been wondering about the Captain—formerly Lieutenant Killian Jones. He'd helped her against Cora, and apparently against his king's orders, and he'd lost his brother in the process.

Emma had remained cautious of him, though—after what she'd been through, she couldn't help it—but she also knew that he wasn't lying to her.

Captain Jones had no intention of hurting her. She could tell he was being honest when he'd said it.

But that didn't mean she was safe.

Emma was still stuck on an enemy ship, and there was a good chance that Cora might show up at any moment to try to abduct her again. Although she didn't know why Cora was biding her time, Emma was certain that Cora wasn't the kind of person who would give up easily. Her family bore enough scars because of Cora's ruthless determination, and this thought left Emma on edge, knowing that she and her family were once again Cora's targets.

Emma could only assume that Regina's protection spells had something to do with Cora's decision to stay away from her. Most likely, Cora hadn't figured out a way around them, but once she did, Emma knew there would be trouble.

She knocked the candle over in frustration. She had to be ready, but Emma just didn't see a way to win the next round against Cora without her magic.

" _Miss_?" Murphy called, after rapping on the cabin door.

It had been a few hours since her walk above deck, but it wasn't yet time for dinner. Emma couldn't guess why the deckhand was knocking.

"Mr. Murphy," Emma replied, as she opened the door. "To what do I owe this visit?"

The young man stood in the hallway with a pile of cloth in his arms. He extended his arms and said, "The Captain wanted you to have these."

Emma took the offered items, noticing buttons and patterns and realizing that the pieces of fabric were garments.

"Why did the Captain want me to have these?"

"It can get cold upon the _Jewel_ , Miss, and who knows what weather we might run into on these strange seas," Murphy answered. "Captain said he didn't want you to go without."

After setting the clothes down on the table, she picked up a faded burgundy coat.

"Captain had me clean them before I brought them down," Murphy explained, before hanging his head. "I know they're not much," he added.

The coat was made for a man. Emma could tell that the sleeves would go past her wrists, and the hem would extend to her knees, but at the moment, she didn't care. She'd spent the last few days fighting the cold that emanated from Cora's cuff, and the coat in her hands felt substantial and warm. She slipped it on her arms and experienced some relief from the ceaseless chill in her body.

"Thank you, Murphy. They're perfect," Emma replied with a smile, making the deckhand blush.

"Well, I know they ain't ladies' clothes, miss," he said, "but we don't have many of those onboard the ship."

"I would be surprised if you had any ladies' clothes on this ship," Emma said offhandedly, knowing that women were not commonly found on naval vessels.

"Usually that's the case," Murphy stammered before continuing, "but we do have…well…"

Emma found the young man's hesitation odd, and her curiosity took over. "What do you have?" she asked.

"Lady Cora," the deckhand began, uneasily. "She brought a trunk onboard and had it stored in the cargo hold. Left it behind when she fled. There may be women's clothes in there but…"

Murphy was nervous, and Emma could understand why. All that the crew seemed to know of Cora was that she was the witch who'd killed their former Captain. If they knew more about Cora, then they would no doubt be more afraid of her.

But Emma had more on her mind than just Cora's cruelty. Cora was powerful and resourceful, and there was a chance that she'd brought magical items with her on the voyage. If they were still onboard the _Jewel_ , then there might be something Emma could use to help improve her situation.

"Would you take me to the cargo hold?" she asked, knowing that she would have an easier time reaching her destination if escorted.

"Why, miss?" Murphy asked, sounding concerned.

"Well," Emma began, quickly inventing a story to make the young man believe her, "there may be items there that a lady requires, and it would be indelicate of me to ask a man to retrieve them on my behalf." Her tone was coy, and she could see the blush spread to Murphy's ears.

The young man swallowed nervously before saying, "I can take you down there, miss, but there can't be any delays this time."

Emma didn't need long. She would open that trunk and fill her pockets with anything useful she could find. She doubted it would take any time at all.

* * *

 _Twice_.

Twice in one day, Killian had gone past the Captain's cabin and found the room empty.

Murphy was no longer going to be on guard duty. Killian had thought the deckhand's youth would be helpful with this task. A boy of fifteen seemed less likely to cause trouble for their female passenger than a fully grown man.

Murphy often reminded Killian of himself at that age. The deckhand had a youthful shyness and awkwardness, which Killian understood all too well. He would have been too afraid to speak to a woman like Miss Swan, let alone try anything more forward. And Killian knew that Murphy possessed a sense of honor and duty.

Or at least it had seemed as if Murphy possessed those traits before today's events.

Killian searched the deck, but there was no sign of Swan or the deckhand. He then proceeded through the ship. They weren't in the galley, and Killian was relieved they weren't in the crew's quarters. His sense of propriety didn't feel equipped to handle the sight of Miss Swan spending time amongst his crew's bunks.

Narrowing down the possible options, Killian turned toward the cargo hold. There he saw Murphy leaning against the doorframe, and the young man bolted upright as Killian approached.

"Captain!" Murphy exclaimed, sounding startled.

Killian reached the doorway, where he could see past the deckhand's shoulder into the hold. There he viewed Miss Swan, standing over an open trunk he recognized as Cora's.

Swan had looked up at Murphy's shout, and she was now staring at him—an expression of guilt on her face.

The whole scene angered Killian. Not only had a member of his crew disobeyed his orders, but the boy and the princess clearly had come here with the intent of exploring the witch's chest. Whether Swan's purposes were good or evil, Killian wasn't certain, but he knew that Cora was a villain and that nothing of hers could be trusted. Swan could be endangering the entire crew with this reckless act, and it made Killian irate. He didn't stop to consider the best course of action; he just reacted.

"Murphy, go now," he ordered. "Swab the deck from bow to stern until the sun shines off the planks, and when you are finished—do it again!"

Murphy nodded and then stumbled before finally making his way down the hall.

Killian then turned back to the princess.

"Captain," she began, "let me—"

"No," Killian interrupted. He made his way to her in three swift strides, and then grabbed her elbow. "I'm returning you to your quarters now."

Their walk back to the Captain's cabin was made in silence, and Killian kept them moving at a demanding pace. When they reached the cabin, he let her go roughly before closing the door behind them. He needed this conversation to take place without the prying ears of the crew.

Cora was evil—Killian knew that firsthand. He'd assumed, given Swan's circumstances, that the princess was not like Cora. She'd been Cora's victim, and she'd tried to help both he and Liam in the fight against the witch. But now Killian wondered if he'd been mistaken. What would a good person be doing among that witch's belongings?

Perhaps he was wrong about Emma Swan.

"What were you doing down there?" he asked her finally.

"You said that I could leave the cabin so long as I was escorted by Murphy," she answered defiantly.

"That's not what I meant," Killian replied, anger seeping into his tone. He wasn't interested in evasion; he needed the truth. "What were you doing in Cora's trunk?"

She didn't respond immediately. She was glaring at him, but behind that menacing look, Killian thought he could discern her mind at work. He couldn't tell if she was just trying to find the right way to explain what was going on, or if she was trying to develop a lie.

Unable to tolerate the prolonged silence, he demanded, "Answer me!"

"I was looking for a way to defend myself," she replied sternly.

"What?" Killian said, not understanding.

"Cora isn't one to run away for long," Swan stated. "When she comes back, I need to be ready, or I need to find a way to be gone."

"With dark magic?" he questioned.

"Not all magical items are inherently dark or light," she replied. "Some depend on the person wielding them."

"And you expect me to just believe that?" Killian asked. "You expect me to believe that anyone would use anything of Cora's without there being some sort of dark magic behind it?"

"I don't have any other choice," she said in a tone of desperation that struck Killian.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, his anger lessening a bit.

"You saw what happened the last time I faced her," Swan replied with a sigh. "If I don't have some way of turning the tables, it'll be worse next time."

Killian couldn't imagine much worse than what he'd seen during their last encounter with Cora, but he'd also watched Swan repel the witch at least twice.

"But your magic—you managed to keep her at bay last time."

"That wasn't my magic; that wasn't me doing anything."

"But that light," Killian said, remembering the blinding force that had knocked Cora back and prevented the witch from disappearing with Swan.

"It was a protection spell," she replied. "A powerful one, but there's no guarantee that Cora won't be able to find a way around it."

"And your own magic—will that not help you against her?" he questioned.

As if by reflex, Swan gripped her right wrist. Even with the long coat now covering her arms, Killian remembered seeing a leather brace there. He didn't know what the significance of the brace was, but her reaction told him it was something important. She'd stopped speaking, and Killian recognized they weren't accomplishing anything with this difficult back and forth.

She was afraid; Killian could see that now—and it was understandable with all that Cora had done to her and everything else she had threatened to do. Killian's anger dissipated, and he felt like they needed to begin again. Honesty seemed like the best way to start—she needed to know his concerns and he needed to know hers if they were going to help each other through whatever might lie ahead.

"Let's try something new," he said softly. "It's called trust."

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him warily.

"Look," he began. "I just saw you rifling through the belongings of the witch that murdered my brother."

"And just a few days ago, you kidnapped me," she retorted.

"In my defense," Killian stated, "I didn't know you'd been kidnapped until I came to your aid against Cora." He paused before continuing, "I know that doesn't absolve me of my sins, but I swear to you, I will do everything within my power to make this right and to earn your trust. Now will you help me to trust you?"

She considered him for a moment before the tension in her body seemed to ease. "Fine," she replied resignedly.

"I know you have magic—I overheard Cora say as much," he said. "Now why won't it help you against her? Why do you need anything from Cora's belongings?"

"Because of this," she answered hesitantly, lifting up her right arm and pushing back the sleeve to reveal the brace. "The man…the man who abducted me…he put this cuff on my wrist, and it prevents me from using my magic."

 _Baelfire_ —Killian remembered the man, and Cora's remark that Baelfire had played his part well. Killian's mind flashed to the bruise he'd seen upon Swan's neck. That man had hurt her and taken away her magic—all for Cora's benefit.

"I take it there's no way to remove it?" he asked, feeling certain he already knew the answer.

"I've tried every non-magical method of removing it, other than dismemberment," she replied dryly, looking down at her wrist.

"That's not happening," Killian asserted—he wasn't going to allow such harm to happen on his ship.

"It's a last resort," Swan said. "There's a possibility I wouldn't be able to heal myself fast enough if my magic was restored, and there's also the risk that the enchantment won't be lifted at all, so I'd be left with no hand, no magic, and—"

"And that's not happening," Killian repeated, finally catching her gaze again.

"When Cora returns, that alternative may seem more appealing than what she has planned," she stated.

"But you were looking for another alternative?" he questioned. "That's why you were going through Cora's chest."

"Yes," Swan answered. "The way I see it, Cora knows where she sent us, and she'll be back here as soon as she's ready to finish what she started. There are only so many ways to prevent Cora from winning this."

"And those ways are?"

"The first option is to find a way to remove this cuff," she began. "With my magic, at the very least I'll have a fighting chance against Cora the next time I see her. At best, I may have a way to bring us back home."

"How?" Killian asked eagerly.

"Cora used her magic to send us here—not a bean, a wand, or any other means of opening a portal that I've ever heard of. If her magic could do that, then so could mine."

"You're certain of that?"

"Yes," she answered, with a determination in her voice that made Killian believe her. "I may be limited in terms of where I can send us, though. I know the ocean off the shore of Misthaven better than any other waters, so I should be able to bring us there."

"My crew and I could manage any journey from those waters. I would be able to bring them home," Killian replied. "But there's no guarantee we'll find a way to remove the cuff and restore your magic—so what were your other options for defeating Cora?"

"Either a message home or a portal home," Swan replied.

"A message? What would be your plan there—to warn your family about Cora in hopes that they'll be able to defeat her?"

"In part," she began. "But also because there are others back home with magic. Cora said they couldn't track me down because of this," she said, gesturing to the cuff. "If I could let them know where I am, then they could use magic to show up here and bring us back."

Seeing a flaw in this plan, Killian asked, "How do you intend to relay to them where you are?"

"I take it you haven't had any luck in figuring out where Cora sent us?"

"None," he replied, crestfallen. "I'm beginning to think the witch cast us out of our world and into another."

"She didn't."

"How can you be certain?" he asked, unable to hide the doubt from his voice.

"Like I said, Cora only used her magic, and no one's magic is powerful enough to send a person to another world, let alone an entire ship," Swan answered.

"So creating a portal to another world takes something more, such as that bean or wand that you spoke of," Killian began. "If that's the case, then how could a portal be a possible solution for us?"

"It comes down to what Cora might have left in that trunk, or if there's nothing there, then it will depend on what we find during this voyage," she explained. "If we can find something that can open a portal, we would just need to direct it where we want to go."

"From the way you describe it, Swan, finding a way home almost sounds easy," he said, somewhat sarcastically.

"I know it won't be," she replied with a sad smile.

"So that's why you need to know what resources are available to you on this ship," Killian stated.

"Yes," Swan answered.

"Very well," he said, "I will have the chest brought up here after dinner this evening on two conditions."

"Which are?"

"First—that you permit me to be here when you go through its contents," he replied. "I believe it might be safer for you to have someone else present should any of Cora's belongings prove to be dangerous."

"That seems reasonable," Swan said. "And the second?"

"That you stop leaving this cabin without permission," Killian answered. "If you would like to go somewhere on the ship, send Murphy to inform me first."

"I suppose I can accept that condition as well," she replied. "And may I make a request of my own, Captain?"

Killian knew that the princess had agreed to his terms too easily, and part of him dreaded what her request might be. But she had provided him with honesty this afternoon, and she had accepted his conditions; it would only be fair for him to do what he could to meet her request.

"Of course, my lady," he said to her.

"Would you be willing to join me for dinner?"

"What?" he stammered ineloquently, unprepared for such a request.

"I can understand if you refuse. I wouldn't want to take you away from your duties elsewhere," Swan explained. "After the last few days, I just thought it might be pleasant to have a conversation that didn't involve a reprimand or mortal peril."

The kindness in her voice resonated within him. He was a lowly son of nobody from an enemy kingdom as far as a princess of Misthaven should be concerned, but she spoke to him as if he were an equal. He felt ashamed of his earlier accusations, and Killian knew he needed to make amends.

"It would be my honor, my lady, to join you for dinner," he said with a bow.

She smiled at him brightly, and he felt warmth in his chest, as she said, "I look forward to it, Captain."

Killian left the cabin then, and couldn't help but wonder if she would win every argument between them with that smile of hers.

And in his heart, he somehow knew that he wouldn't mind if she did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, kudos, and support! 
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!

Murphy appeared first with Cora's trunk, followed shortly thereafter by Barton with the meal.

The next knock on Emma's door signaled the Captain's arrival.

"Miss Swan," he said, offering her a polite bow.

"Captain," Emma replied, opening the door for him. "I'm glad you were able to accept my invitation."

"I suppose I was fortunate to receive your invitation," Jones responded, as he entered the room, and Emma closed the door behind him. "I fear we've had a rough start," he added.

"Well, perhaps we should sit down and toast to a new beginning," she suggested.

He offered her a shy smile in reply, before pulling out a chair for her at the table.

Emma could see that the Captain had been trained on the manners a gentleman should possess, but she also noticed he lacked the polish she'd observed in officers who'd attended her parents' court. Those officers were more refined, but Emma could tell that they'd lacked the sincerity that the Captain displayed in his words and actions.

For Emma, that sincerity was something she found unnerving about Killian Jones.

She knew her circumstances; she knew she should keep her guard up. But Emma also knew how to spot a lie, and she'd yet to hear one uttered by the Captain.

After their conversation that afternoon, Emma realized that she wanted to trust him. She wanted to feel safe around someone after everything that Cora had done to her, and it was so tempting to let go of her remaining concerns and accept Jones' word that he meant her no harm.

" _Don't let your guard down, Emma, or your enemies will find an easy way to exploit that goodness of yours,_ " she could hear Regina's words in her mind. " _Smile kindly when you have to, but always be ready to strike when the occasion calls for it._ "

For some reason, that particular lesson kept returning to Emma tonight. She'd had to fake a smile through so many diplomatic visits and state dinners, while she would listen to politicians say one thing and mean another. It was always part of a larger game. She would make herself appear agreeable and courteous, but at the same time she was analyzing her parents' guests, trying to discern their angles and schemes.

And Emma always heeded Regina's guidance in those situations—she never let her guard down.

The one time she did—the night she went to meet Baelfire, Emma ended up truly regretting it.

For that reason, Emma was surprised at how easily the Captain could draw a genuine smile out of her during their dinner conversation. Perhaps the events of the last few days had just been too trying, perhaps Emma no longer had the strength to put up a facade.

Or perhaps Jones could just read her too well.

Their eyes met for a moment from across the table, and she could tell he was contemplating her just as she was contemplating him.

Perhaps they both read each other too well.

Feeling a need to resume the conversation, Emma started in on a new subject.

"I didn't have a chance to thank you earlier for the clothing," she said.

"Of course," he replied. "I wouldn't be a very hospitable host if I allowed you to catch cold aboard the ship." He eyed the rolled-up sleeves of the coat she wore before continuing, "Although a few alterations may be in order. Would you like for a member of my crew to make the adjustments or do princesses receive training in that sort of skill?"

"I know how to sew," Emma answered. "It's not my favorite pastime, but I can manage so long as I have the necessary supplies."

"No, I imagine your favorite pastime is venturing off to places without permission," the Captain remarked with one eyebrow raised.

"I had my reasons, which you already know," she stated. "And it's not as if I have some occupation onboard this ship to take up my time and allow me to be of some use."

"Occupations onboard a naval vessel can be dangerous. Even with proper training, men have lost life or limb in service to their ship," he said firmly. "You are welcome, however, to sew in this cabin or to read any of the books on the shelves here," he offered.

"I've already read them," Emma replied, earning a look of surprise from Jones.

"You've only had three days," he exclaimed in disbelief.

"I read them before I became a passenger on this ship."

"You read all eighteen of the Argo Treatises?" the Captain questioned.

"Yes."

"Why would a princess do that?"

"Because one day I'll be queen," she answered plainly.

"Even so," he began, "don't most royals normally have an admiralty to advise them on all naval matters?"

"Of course," Emma replied. "But I also want to understand my advisers' recommendations and make informed decisions. How could I do that if I don't have some idea what they're talking about?"

"It's a valid point," Jones admitted. "I just have trouble picturing a princess reading through endless pages on the proper way to hoist or lower a sail."

"Those treatises also provide valuable information on how to manage an armada or how to safeguard your ports—"

"Or how to disobey a captain's orders?" he interrupted.

Emma studied his expression at that comment. He seemed serious until a slight smirk appeared upon his lips, and she realized he was teasing her.

"I noticed that Murphy survived the swabbing," she said.

"He's fortunate that the punishment wasn't more severe," the Captain replied.

"He shouldn't have been blamed for something that was my idea."

"Aye," he said, "but a sailor also has to learn to follow orders. The punishment was more to remind him of that than to discipline him for your error of judgment. Besides, a lad of his age can handle a bit of hard labor."

"My little brother might disagree with you," Emma replied, remembering how Leo would protest against certain tasks their parents had assigned to them.

"Aye?"

"Yes, he's always going to prefer adventure to hard labor," she said.

"If I may offer a suggestion?" Jones asked.

"Of course."

"If he doesn't already, he's going to prefer being called _younger brother_ more than _little brother._ "

Emma couldn't help but smile at him. "You're right," she said. "And as of this past year, _little brother_ is no longer accurate. He's already taller than me.”

When she looked back at the Captain, Emma could see sadness in his eyes, and she realized that he must be thinking of the brother he'd lost.

"Do you have other siblings, my lady?" he asked, and Emma could tell he was trying to hide sorrow from his tone.

"Just Leopold," she answered.

"Leopold—that was the name of the former king of Misthaven, correct?" Jones asked, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically.

"Yes," she replied. "My mother wanted to name my brother in honor of her father."

"Bloody Snow named her son after the father she murdered?"

Emma choked on her wine before asking, "What?"

"It's how the story goes," he answered.

"It's how what story goes?"

"Snow White joined forces with her stepmother to murder her father and take his throne," the Captain explained. "Or at least that's how the events were told in Eirinn."

"No wonder your people are at war with mine—if that's what you think of my mother," Emma replied. "How do they explain the rest of it then? Her time in exile? Her defeat of King George? Any of it?"

"The stories tell of her time in exile—how Bloody," he stopped, no doubt because of the severe look that Emma gave him, and corrected himself, "…how Snow White and Regina killed the king, but then Regina's mother tried to stop them both. From what I heard, that woman helped run the kingdom for a time as she tried to hunt down Snow and Regina."

Emma couldn't hold back her scoff.

"Is the tale so inaccurate?" Jones asked.

"That woman you spoke of—the one that ran the kingdom," Emma began, "her name is Cora."

"What?" he asked with a dark look in his eyes.

"Cora is Regina's mother," Emma explained. "She killed my grandmother to put Regina on the throne, she killed the man Regina loved to force Regina to go along with her plans, and then she killed my grandfather to finally take control of Misthaven."

The Captain looked stunned by the revelations.

"But your mother is now the queen," he said. "How did she defeat Cora?"

"It took years," she replied. "And it involved battles with more than just Cora. Long story short, my mother and Regina joined forces, gained a few allies—and enemies, and eventually found a way to banish her to another world."

"With everything Cora's done, she wasn't sentenced to death? Or was banishment chosen because she's too difficult to kill?" he asked with interest.

Emma could see through the Captain's line of questioning. He was trying to find a way to exact his vengeance on Cora.

"My mother and Regina aren't murderers," Emma replied. "If there's a way to solve a problem without killing someone, they're going to choose that path."

"No matter the cost then?" Jones asked. "How many lives have been lost because of their mercy? Or look at your own situation—you would be safe at home in your castle if Cora were no longer alive."

"I don't blame my mother and Regina for Cora's actions, and I certainly can't blame Regina for not wanting to kill her own mother. Could you do something like that? Could you kill your own flesh and blood?"

"I no longer have to worry about making that sort of decision," he replied darkly. "Cora's seen to that."

Tense silence settled between them, and Emma was uncertain how to proceed. She understood the Captain's anger toward Cora, but she didn't know how to convince him to give up his thoughts of revenge. She could remind him that challenging Cora on his own would be suicide, but she doubted he would listen.

"Forgive me," he said, after another moment. "I believe we agreed that there would be no discussion of mortal peril this evening, and I seem to have neglected that stipulation."

Emma smiled before replying, "Well, the recent history of the royal family of Misthaven is wrought with mortal peril, so I suppose I have trouble avoiding the subject."

Jones returned her smile, as he asked, "So your father—are the tales about him at all accurate?"

"That depends—what do the tales say about him?"

"That he was an adventurous rapscallion, devoted to his father—good King George, and a hero to his kingdom until Snow White cast some spell on him, making him her slave for the rest of his days."

"If my father heard one of those stories," Emma began, "I don't know if he'd punch the person telling it or laugh at the absurdity of it all."

"So that tale is also lacking truth?"

"The adventurous part is right; the rapscallion sounds more like his twin brother, who died and was replaced by my father because King George wanted an heir. My family tree is a bit complicated," she added.

"Aye," the Captain agreed. "And if the tales of your father and his relationship with King George are so complex, I'm sure there's more to your father and mother's story. She didn't enchant him, I take it?"

"No," Emma replied. "There were a few enchantments, poisonings, and misunderstandings throughout their unconventional courtship. But despite everything that their enemies threw at them, they would always find each other and save each other."

"Theirs sounds like a thrilling romance," Jones noted.

"Yes," Emma said, losing herself in thoughts of her parents. If they were here, they would find a way out of these hardships. Their true love might have been strong enough to produce magic in Emma and her brother, but her parents had no magic at their control. They weren't like Emma or Regina; they used the skills they had and they always found a way to succeed—even in the darkest of moments.

She thought back to how her parents had survived heartache when they thought they couldn't be together, how her mother had sacrificed herself to a poisoned apple to save her father, and how her father had found her mother and saved her with a kiss.

There were so many intricate pieces to her parents' stories—the enemies fought, the friends made along the way. But suddenly, a recurring theme appeared to Emma. There was one person who'd continually played a part— _a magical part_ —in her parents' adventures.

"What are you thinking of?" the Captain asked her.

"I think I might know someone who can help us," Emma replied.

"A friend of your parents?"

"I wouldn't say that," she said. "But he is someone who's powerful."

"He's not a friend of Cora's, is he?" Jones asked, suspiciously.

"Maybe at one point he was, but in the end, he was the one who helped my family find a way to banish Cora."

"Why haven't you thought to call on him before this moment?"

"With him, there's always a price," she replied.

"What sort of price?"

"I won't know until I ask him," Emma answered. "All I know is that if anyone in this world knows where we are, how we get home, or how we beat Cora—it's going to be him."

"How do we contact him?"

"Easy," she replied.

* * *

Swan said the same word three times, and Killian wondered if she was casting some sort of spell.

Suddenly, a man appeared in the empty seat between them—or at least he looked somewhat like a man. He had the body of one, but his skin was golden and reminded Killian more of a reptile's flesh than a human's.

"I was wondering when you were going to call, Your Highness," the man said, eyeing the princess.

"Dark One," Swan said, acknowledging their new guest in a level tone.

"Dark One?" Killian questioned. "You're the Dark One?"

"Rumplestiltskin," the Dark One replied, with a songlike cadence to his voice.

Killian knew stories of the Dark One, and unlike the tales of Swan's family, Killian believed that the horrors described about the Dark One were most likely accurate.

That thought put Killian on his guard. His left hand went to the knife on his belt in case the Dark One tried anything against them, but Killian wondered what a blade could accomplish in a fight with the ruthless being before him.

"Your former student Cora sent us here—" Swan began.

"And she took away your magic," Rumplestiltskin interrupted, waving his finger at the princess in rhythm with his words. "I'm aware, dearie."

"Then you know where she sent us," she said. "How do we get back?"

"Direct—just like your parents," Rumplestiltskin noted. His tone turned more sinister as he added, "It sounds like you want to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" the princess asked.

"The same deal I offered your parents," he replied, and in a flash, a scroll of paper appeared in his hand and unfurled before Swan. "Only this time instead of my assistance to Misthaven in the war against Eirinn, I'll be offering you a trip back home."

"In exchange for?" Swan asked, and Killian could recognize the seriousness in her tone.

"Why, your firstborn of course," Rumplestiltskin said, as calmly as if he were trading in grain or livestock.

"We're not taking that deal," Killian replied.

"I don't believe the deal was directed at you, Captain," the Dark One said. He glanced in Killian's direction, before turning back to the princess. "I would be willing to sweeten the deal a bit, though. Your firstborn in exchange for both your safe return and the safe return of everyone else onboard this ship—that sounds like a fair trade now doesn't it?"

"It sounds like the corrupt dealing of a dark soul," Killian replied, unable to hide the repulsion he felt at this man's words.

"Well, I am the Dark One, so it's not all that much of a surprise, now is it?" Rumplestiltskin stated, before once again returning his focus to Swan. "Besides, my deal seems better than Francis'. I'm not telling you who the father needs to be—you're free to make that decision all on your own, princess."

"Leave now," Killian demanded, rising to his feet to stare down at the Dark One.

"You really think it wise to try to order me about, Captain?" Rumplestiltskin asked, grimly. "Your ship's running low on supplies, and you have no idea how to make it back home."

"I'll find a way," Killian replied sternly.

Suddenly, Rumplestiltskin disappeared from his seat, and Killian turned as a voice sounded from the other side of the room.

"Will you now?" the Dark One questioned, as a large map appeared floating in the air behind him. "You see, Misthaven and Eirinn are here," he said pointing to one corner. "And you are here," he added, motioning toward a large hole in the center of the map.

"What does that mean?" Swan asked. "Where are we?"

"The Timeless Sea," Rumplestiltskin replied.

"That place is a myth," Killian said.

"Oh, and I'm sure a few days ago, a witch with the ability to rip someone's beating heart out and crush it right in front of you seemed like a myth," the Dark One stated, curling his fingers into a fist and squeezing in imitation of what Cora had done to his brother's heart. "But you know better now, don't you?" the imp added with a twisted smile.

"You don't think we can find a way out of this Timeless Sea?" Swan questioned.

"Of course you can," Rumplestiltskin replied. "It just depends on how much time you're willing to spend making your way home. I believe the Captain knows the story, don't you?"

Killian knew the story; most every sailor did. But until today, Killian had thought it was just that—a story.

"In the Timeless Sea, it doesn't matter the distance you travel. What matters is the time your travels take."

"Precisely," the Dark One said, nearly purring the word. "Based on where Cora dropped you, it should take roughly twenty-eight years for you to return home."

"Twenty-eight years?" Swan repeated.

Rumplestiltskin vanished again only to reappear in a chair right next to Swan.

"Makes my deal sound more tempting, doesn't it?" he asked her, holding out the parchment to her.

"Why?" she questioned. "You, Cora, Francis—what's so special about my firstborn?"

"You know why you and your brother have magic, don't you, princess?" the imp replied. "But is the Captain aware?"

Neither Killian nor Swan answered the Dark One.

"I'll take that as a no," Rumplestiltskin said. "You see, every so often, True Love will occur between two people, and once in a generation, that True Love will be strong enough to produce magic in the children born of that love."

"Like my parents," Swan stated.

"Not quite, dearie," the Dark One replied. "With your parents, it's a bit more than the commonplace True Love. Theirs is a love that occurs once a millennia—if that. It's the rarest form of magic I've seen."

"If that's the case, then why weren't you trying to make a deal with my parents for me or my brother—why wait for my firstborn?"

"For reasons that the mind of a mere mortal like yourself couldn't possibly fathom," Rumplestiltskin said. "Now if you're so unwilling to give up your firstborn, I would be willing to settle for you as an alternative."

"Swan," Killian stated, his hand now on the hilt of his sword, ready for a fight, but the princess interrupted him.

"You owe me," she said to the Dark One.

"And how do you figure that? I've never made a deal with you before," Rumplestiltskin replied.

"Your son is the reason we're stuck in this place," Swan answered.

"What has my son got to do with this?"

"He was the one who kidnapped me," she explained.

"Baelfire?" Killian asked, realizing who the man was who'd been working with Cora.

"How do you know that name?" Rumplestiltskin asked, his voice sounding tense, as he turned his attention to Killian.

"I was there," Killian began, unable to hide the shame from his face as he admitted his role in front of the princess, "when Cora met with your son to discuss his payment."

"And what payment did my son receive?" Rumplestiltskin demanded.

"What is it worth to you?" Swan interrupted.

"It's not worth sending all of you home," the Dark One replied. "But it might be worth enough to stop me from burning this ship down to ash around you." He lit a fireball in his hand to emphasize his threat.

"It was a potion," Killian answered, seeing that Rumplestiltskin wouldn't provide anything useful to them for this information. "Cora said it would make it impossible for someone to find him."

"You can't find him, can you?" Swan asked, but the Dark One ignored the question.

"Being the Dark One," the imp began, " _impossible_ doesn't apply to me." His demeanor suddenly changed as he turned his attention back to the princess. "Now do we have a deal or not?"

The scroll was on the table before her, and it took all of Killian's willpower not to grab the parchment and rip it to pieces. Recalling the kidnapping and the part he played in it, Killian felt responsible. He didn't want Swan to have to pay for something that was not her fault to begin with.

He waited anxiously for the princess to make her decision.

"No," Swan stated firmly to the Dark One, after a few more moments. "I'm not going to take your deal. My parents refused your offer to save their kingdom. If they could do that, then I can refuse you too."

"Yes, but your parents' decision didn't banish a whole crew of innocent souls to live apart from their families for decades," Rumplestiltskin replied. "Think on that as you encounter a few of the less savory folk trapped in this place with you."

Then just as suddenly as the Dark One had appeared, he was gone.

Killian felt relieved—both because Rumplestiltskin had departed and because of the princess' choice.

"Next time, Swan," he began, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, "perhaps we should have a longer discussion before you summon a demon to my ship."

"And if he'd made a different offer—one that you or I could've accepted and we could be home right now?"

"He's the Dark One," Killian replied. "His deals aren't meant to be easy to accept."

"No, but if we're going to be stuck here for twenty-eight years—" she began.

"Then we have time to find another way," he stated. "I couldn't follow King Francis' orders once I learned his true intent. And I wouldn't have been able to live with the cost of you giving up yourself or your first child to the Dark One. No one should have to go through something like that."

"And when we run out of supplies?" she asked, and Killian could hear the weariness in her voice.

"We'll cross that reef when we come to it," he replied.

"Bridge," she said with a glimpse of her former smile returning. "The expression—it's about crossing a bridge when you come to it."

"Not among sailors," Killian said. "Now, we've had a longer evening than planned. I suggest we call it a night and go through Cora's belongings in the morning. I'll send Murphy up to clear the table, and then I would recommend that you take some rest."

Swan stood and stared at him for a moment before saying, "Thank you, Captain—for everything."

Killian felt like her gaze could pierce his soul, and he didn't know if he should fear the feeling or crave it.

He gave a small bow and said, "Good night, Miss Swan," as he strode out of the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

It hadn't taken long to find Murphy and give the lad his final orders for the night.

Now Killian felt ready for sleep. After a trying day, he finally knew the _Jewel's_ location. Although there wasn't much hope that the journey before them would be short or easy, Killian knew how important it was to at least have a starting point. That was always the first step in plotting one's course.

All he needed to do now was find a way out of these cursed waters and keep his crew alive in the meantime.

It might be an impossible task—Killian recognized that. But he had to do what he could to save his crew.

_And his passenger_ , he thought, his mind adding this unbidden truth.

"Wondering how to bring your crew home, Captain?" a voice said behind him.

Killian turned around to see the Dark One in his cabin.

"What do you want, demon?"

"Now, now, I came here to have a civil conversation with the man responsible for all the lives on this vessel," Rumplestiltskin answered. "I realized that I was perhaps a bit limiting in my negotiations earlier. The princess isn't the only one in a position to make a deal."

"I'll make no deal with you," Killian said firmly.

"Really?" the Dark One questioned. "You don't even know what I'm offering or at what price. You shouldn't be so hasty to throw away my deal."

"I've heard the sort of deals you offer, and I've no interest in that sort of trade," he replied.

"I have the gift of foresight, dearie, and one day in the future, I can hear you singing a far different tune," Rumplestiltskin said, sinisterly. "One day—to save the thing you care for most—you'll be begging me for a deal. Perhaps you should go ahead and make a deal now to save yourself from that sort of desperation."

Seeing the Dark One in the candlelight—with his golden, scale-like skin and the sharp, pointed edges of his teeth, Killian was once again reminded of a reptile. He would no longer listen to this beast's words. Liam would never have made a deal with the Dark One, no matter what was at stake, and Killian was going to do everything in his power to live up to Liam's example.

"Get off my ship, Crocodile," Killian ordered, and he was surprised to see a smile appear on the Dark One's face.

"Confidence—I like it!" Rumplestiltskin said gleefully. "But it will only get you so far. One day, you'll want my deal."

"Not bloody likely," Killian replied.

"We'll see about that, Captain," the Dark One stated ominously before disappearing from the room.

Killian didn't have long to contemplate Rumplestiltskin's words before a voice from above deck drew his attention.

" _Land ho!_ "


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay--an unrelated Captain Swan one-shot (or perhaps three-shot) for Valentine's Day has been stealing my attention.
> 
> I want to thank everyone for your continuing support of this story, and I hope you enjoy the adventures that lie ahead for Emma and Killian. As mentioned, this story will pull from OUAT, other sources, and my own imagination. I would greatly appreciate your feedback as I continue to develop these characters and their storylines.
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!

Killian watched the shoreline as the _Jewel_ completed its circle around the small island.

There were no ports along the coast, nor were there any other signs of civilization that he could discern amongst the thick vegetation and uneven terrain of the island.

He didn't know if he should be worried or relieved at the lack of human life visible.

Without other people present, they would have an easier time restocking their supplies. They were also at a lower risk of running into the _less_ _savory folk_ that Rumplestiltskin had warned them about the previous evening. Killian didn't know what other beings were cursed to this place, but his preference was to avoid as many of them as possible.

If the stories of the Timeless Sea were true, several dark creatures of legend had been banished here through the ages—and many of them had not returned. Killian didn't know if it was because they'd met their end here or if they'd chosen to stay, even after they'd completed the time they owed.

Killian wasn't sure about the particulars of the curse surrounding this Sea, but he'd decided to let his crew know their location this morning. He'd called everyone up to the deck and informed them of the waters in which they currently sailed.

He wanted to be open with them. The only facts he'd withheld from his crew were the source of this information and the price the Dark One would accept for their freedom from this place. He wasn't going to risk Swan's safety like that.

Killian had given his men options, though, based on the tales he knew of the Timeless Sea. All that the stories of his youth had said was to keep moving through this place. Whether that meant the _Jewel_ should stay sailing on the water for twenty-eight years or if they could simply stay on an island and walk in circles each day, the stories were unclear. Killian recommended to his crew that they keep the _Jewel_ sailing, stopping only to replenish their supplies or to search for any means of returning home faster. Their only other option was to set up camp on some habitable island like the one they'd just found and hope that they were transported back to their realm at the end of twenty-eight years.

Killian was grateful that the majority of his crew had agreed with his plan. The few dissenters didn't vocalize much opposition—they just seemed upset to learn their current fate.

"They'll come round," Warren had said to him after the meeting with the crew. "They just need time to accept the hand Fate's dealt them."

"You and the other men seem to be handling the news well," Killian replied.

"I've seen you and your brother guide this ship through many a storm, Captain," Warren stated. "You'll get us through this too."

His first mate had returned to the helm then, and Killian was left hoping that the man's faith in him wasn't misplaced.

Approaching the island, the crew recognized that the waters were too shallow for the _Jewel_. They prepared the longboats so that a small party could investigate the island and begin collecting supplies. Killian's plan was to oversee the mission to the island, accompanied by five of his men. Warren would have command of the ship in his absence.

"Captain?" Murphy said from behind him.

"What is it, lad?" he asked, already certain that he knew what the deckhand was going to ask him.

"Beg pardon, sir, but Miss Swan is asking if she can go ashore with you," the young man replied.

"Remind our guest that the _Jewel_ is a safer place for her," Killian said.

"Aye, sir, I did that already, but she insisted that I ask you."

"And did she have any other requests?" Killian asked.

"One, sir," Murphy answered. "She said if it seemed likely you'd say no, I was to ask you to speak with her before you depart."

Killian was torn. He'd already disagreed with the princess earlier that morning on whether she could join the landing party.

They'd discussed the subject after they'd gone through Cora's things and found no way to return home. Swan had said she might be able to make a few balms and remedies based on the supplies in the chest, but nothing powerful enough to bring them back.

"What if there's something on the island?" she'd asked.

"If my men and I find anything, we'll bring it back to the ship," Killian had told her.

"And before yesterday, would you have known to bring a bean back to the ship?"

"Then tell me what else I should look for, and I'll bring it back to you."

She'd released a frustrated sigh at that. "I can't list off all the possibilities."

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to make do with whatever the men and I bring back to the ship," he'd replied, before leaving the cabin and returning above deck.

Now she was apparently summoning him back. Killian knew she had a valid argument, but he also recognized the dangers in exploring an unknown island—especially one in the middle of a cursed sea. There were too many risks involved in bringing her ashore.

He knocked on the cabin door, and the princess invited him to enter—but the woman in front of him didn't look the same as the one he'd seen earlier that morning.

She'd plaited her hair back and replaced her dress with a pair of tan breeches and a tunic—both of which she'd managed to fashion so that they hugged her frame tightly. Over those layers, she wore a gray vest and the burgundy coat she'd claimed the day before. The sleeves now appeared to be rolled up more securely.

"My lady, I'm not certain why you've called me here, but there's nothing you can say that will change my mind on this subject," Killian stated before she could speak. "I don't care that you're now dressed for walking about a strange island. Your new wardrobe won't protect you from whatever hazards may lie in wait there."

"You're right," she said, catching him off guard.

"I am?" he questioned.

"Of course," Swan replied. "I simply wanted to wish you luck before you departed."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, my lady," Killian said, feeling relieved.

"You're welcome, Captain," she said.

He bowed and turned to leave just as she added, "And one more thing—if Cora shows up while you're gone, I will inform her that you have unsettled business with her."

Killian spun on his heel to face Swan once more. "We haven't seen Cora in days. There's no reason to think she'll show up today."

"And there's also no way to know for certain that she won't show up today while you're gone," she replied. "The only thing we do know for certain is that when she does show up, she'll show up for me."

There was a finality to her tone that bothered Killian, and what was worse, he knew that she was right.

He needed to find some sort of justice for his brother, and the only way he could think to accomplish that task was through vengeance against Cora. Only the witch wasn't interested in his need for revenge; she was after Swan. Once Cora had her, both women would be gone, and Killian would still be stuck in this cursed place with twenty-eight years separating him from his quarry.

If he allowed Swan to stay with him, though, there might be a chance. Perhaps he could find a means of fighting Cora when she appeared, or perhaps the witch would drop her guard when she went after the princess. But no matter how the possible scenarios played out in his mind, there was always one common factor—Swan.

She might be in danger if she went to the island with him, but wouldn't she be in greater danger if Cora came onboard the ship to claim her—especially without him there to guard her? His men could provide some protection for the princess, but none of them had his reasons for feeling personally responsible for her safety.

"You are not to leave my side while we are off the ship" Killian said finally, in the same tone he used to issue orders to his crew. He could tell he had her attention with those words, so he continued, "If I tell you to run, you will do so. If I tell you to hide, you will do so. In fact, any order that I give, you are to follow—is that understood?"

"Aye, Captain," Swan said. She smiled at him, but not mockingly. She was happy he was agreeing to her request—even if she'd forced him to accept it.

"If we're separated while on the island, you will return to the longboats and wait for someone to return you to the ship," Killian stated, trying to prepare for worst case scenarios. "In such a case, we'll also need to work out a means for you to navigate back to the landing point."

"I have a decent sense of direction," she replied.

"A decent sense of direction may not be enough in an unfamiliar jungle," Killian said before making his way across the cabin. He retrieved a key from his pocket and opened a trunk containing his brother's belongings. "Do you know how to use a compass?" he asked, handing her a golden, round object.

"Yes," she answered, stowing the compass in her vest pocket.

"Good," he stated. "Thankfully, they still seem to work in this place. We'll be landing on the western side of the island and heading east as we explore, which means—"

"Which means I would need to head west to make it back to the boats," she interrupted.

"Yes, and should you encounter anything on the island, do your best to run or hide as I've said, but if those options are not available," he said, reaching for a small cutlass in the trunk, "use this to defend yourself."

Swan took the blade from him without hesitation and unsheathed it.

"You should be careful with that," Killian insisted, concern clear in his voice. "I only expect you to draw that weapon if you have no other choice."

"Captain, I've studied swordsmanship since I was three," she replied, stepping back from him. She spun the blade a few times with her wrist, and Killian could tell she was testing its weight and familiarizing herself with its grip.

"You're not a typical princess, are you?" he asked, surprised at the skill behind her movement.

"Well, I don't think my father cared that I was a princess," she said, with light mirth in her tone. "He wanted his first child to learn how to sword fight."

She sheathed the blade and attached it to her belt.

"Anything else that we need to bring with us?" Swan asked.

"My men are gathering the other supplies. We should be prepared to depart shortly," Killian replied. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Very well," he said. "We can head above deck and prepare to cast off."

She nodded before following him out of the room.

* * *

Emma recognized several of the crewmen traveling with them to the island. Hale, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep tan and a dark blue kerchief around his neck, rowed the boat carrying Emma and the Captain. Four other men were in the second boat.

When they arrived at the beach, Jones disembarked first and approached Emma, offering her his hand. She didn't think that she needed his assistance to make the small step out of the boat, so she hesitated before accepting his help.

Emma was glad to have his support a moment later, as she felt the ground sway beneath her feet. His other hand quickly went to her waist to steady her.

"Argo doesn't discuss regaining your land legs in any of his treatises," Jones said to her softly.

"No, he doesn't," she agreed, flushing at the contact and hoping the Captain didn't notice. She'd received a hand or an arm from countless knights or guards throughout her life; she didn't understand why his brief touch affected her so.

"It will get better with time," he reassured her, and from the look on his face, she realized he was referring to her land legs, rather than the feeling he stirred within her.

The Captain then turned his attention back to his crewmen and divided their party. A slender man with dark red hair named Pickett was to remain on the shore, gather coconuts from the nearby trees, and guard the boats. Hale and a stout man named Gibbons were to head straight into the jungle before them, and the other two men were sent on a route to the northeast. Emma and the Captain would venture southeast, according to the plan.

Jones took the lead as they walked into the jungle, and Emma followed closely behind him, keeping her eyes peeled and her senses open for any trace of magic. Every twenty paces, the Captain used his knife to mark an "X" on a tree.

"Are those marks meant to aid us should the compass stop working?" she asked.

"Aye, and to serve as reminders of ground we've already covered," he replied. "I've also been looking to see if there are any other marks from prior visitors to this island. So far, I've seen none."

"Is that unusual?" Emma asked.

"Marking one's path is a common enough practice in our realm, but who's to say what we should expect here," he answered.

"I remember seeing hunters do something similar in my country," she noted, recalling hunts that her godfather Robin would lead through the forests of Misthaven.

"I imagine hunters would find it useful in tracking their prey," Jones said. "Explorers often see it as a way of mapping out an area even when they don't have an actual map in hand."

"Have you explored many uncharted places?" Emma asked, as they reached a steep slope in the landscape.

"Some," he answered, before easily jumping to the ground below. Without much thought, he turned around and put his hands on her waist to help her down. Emma placed her hands on his shoulders for support, and soon her feet were on the surface. She looked up to see the Captain's face only inches away from hers. Their eyes met for just a moment before Jones suddenly seemed to recognize their proximity.

He pulled away briskly, turning away from her and running his fingers through his hair, and Emma was left debating whether she should question his reaction or leave it be.

He decided for her as he regained his composure and then began speaking on the previous subject.

"My brother and I were only able to journey through uncharted seas for a brief time before being called back to Eirinn," he explained. "Pirates have been taking an interest in Francis' navy over the last few years. The _Jewel_ was needed closer to home as a result."

"I haven't heard of an increase in piracy in Misthaven's waters," Emma said. "Our merchant vessels occasionally run into trouble on the open seas, but attacks on our navy have been very rare."

"Understandable," Jones replied. "There's more reward to be gained from plundering a merchant ship, and there's more risk involved in attacking an armed naval vessel. That's why pirates generally prefer to pursue the former over the latter."

"Why do you think they're going after Francis' navy then?" she asked, curious to hear more of the Captain's story, but also interested to learn of a potential weak spot in Francis' military forces.

"I can't say for certain," he answered. "They've never been fool enough to take on the _Jewel_. As for the other ships that were attacked, it might be the result of some grudge held against Eirinn or its king. Knowing more about Francis, I believe he's capable of inspiring animosity in others."

Emma agreed with Jones' thoughts, and tucked away the information she'd just learned about Eirinn's navy. If she could make it home, perhaps Misthaven could form some arrangement with these pirates in exchange for their assistance in the war.

"You're fortunate that pirates never went after your ship," she said to him. "I can't imagine how horrifying it would be to have such an experience."

"I didn't always serve upon the _Jewel_ ," he replied somberly.

From the way he'd spoken about his current ship, it sounded as if he'd been onboard her for years. Jones didn't appear to be that much older than her, so she wondered how long the sea had been his life.

"My brother Liam and I worked on a merchant ship, the _Kingfisher_ , before we joined the navy," Jones explained. "One night, we were attacked and boarded, but we managed to hold the pirates off. Unfortunately, though, several lives were lost in the fight."

"How awful, Captain. I'm so sorry you had to go through that sort of experience," Emma said.

"It's been some years now since it happened. I was eight at the time," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Eight?" she exclaimed in surprise and stopped walking. "That's too young to be in service. Did your father work on the vessel? Is that why you were there?"

"It's not a tale I care to recount, your highness," he stated firmly, clearly not wanting to discuss the subject further. He halted and turned back to look at her. "There must be something more agreeable about which we can converse. Perhaps you can tell me what a princess who's mastered magic and sword fighting knows about piracy."

"The only story I have about piracy is rather trivial," Emma admitted.

"Sounds delightful," Jones replied, extending his arm out to signal that they should resume their walk as they spoke.

"Just over two years ago," she began, as she treaded carefully through the jungle, "my parents held a masquerade ball for my eighteenth birthday. It was a normal enough event for what it was, until one of the guests informed me that he was a pirate."

"Forgive me," the Captain interrupted, "but if it was a masquerade, is it not possible that the man was just pretending to be a pirate?"

"That's what I thought as well," she answered. "But not long after he spoke to me, there was a scuffle on the grounds between the man and a few of our guards. The man was able to escape, but not before also telling the guards that he was a pirate. Why would he keep up the act in such a situation?"

"Perhaps he was inebriated," Jones suggested.

"He didn't seem to be," Emma replied.

"Very well," he said, brows furrowing in contemplation. "The man wasn't a guest, as shown by his altercation with the guards. But was there any other proof he was a pirate—other than his statement to that effect? Did anyone report anything stolen?"

"He only confessed to stealing one thing," she answered. "And no one else reported anything stolen."

"What did he steal?" the Captain asked.

"This is the part you'll think silly," Emma answered, thinking back on the evening as Jones once again gave her a hand to help her traverse the landscape. She didn't look him in the eye as she said, "He stole a dance."

"The pirate stole a dance?" he repeated, laughter in his tone. "Let me guess—with the princess who was celebrating her birthday?" he inquired.

"Yes," she admitted reluctantly.

"Pardon my ignorance on the matter, your highness, but isn't stealing a dance a common occurrence at such balls? Don't people cut in from time to time?"

"No, not among the marriageable members of royal families," she explained, frustration evident in her tone. "That's one of the main reasons I've always hated that sort of party. Dance cards are filled a month in advance, and refusing one of the scheduled dances or trying to change partners can be viewed as one country slighting another. Some kingdoms have started wars over such pointless offenses—as I was often reminded before such events."

"Someone wanted to make sure you followed orders," he said. "Should I preface all of my requests to you with the warning that you may start a war if they are not followed?"

"You could try it, Captain," she replied with a smile, "but I'm not sure how well that tactic will work for you."

"So I take it the pirate's stolen dance didn't cause some sort of conflict to begin between Misthaven and another country?" Jones asked.

"No, it didn't," Emma answered. "I suppose the Duke I was scheduled to dance with couldn't blame me for the actions of a pirate."

"And the Duke didn't try to cut in?"

"Well, that was another reason why we believed the man actually was a pirate," she explained. "A few hours later, the Duke was found tied up in a storeroom."

"It sounds as if that pirate was determined," the Captain said before a concerned look appeared on his face. "He didn't harm you, did he?"

"No, no one was seriously harmed that night—well, other than the Duke's pride perhaps," Emma answered.

She could remember clearly how flustered the Duke had been after he'd been found, and how angry their guards were that the man had escaped. Despite how vivid these memories seemed, her recollection of the pirate from that night was less detailed. She could recall his bold words, his humor, and his wit much more than his features, but perhaps that was simply because of the mask he wore.

A familiar sound distracted Emma from her reminiscence. It was as if something were drumming in short, repeated bursts against the trees above them.

"Do you hear that?" she asked the Captain, as she looked up.

"Aye," he said.

She caught sight of a small bird flying from one tree to the next. When it settled, Emma could see a bright red crown of feathers on its head before the creature once again drilled its beak almost frantically against another tree.

"Are woodpeckers common on tropical islands?" she asked, unnerved by the agitated movements and sounds from the bird.

"No, they're not," Jones replied, as he also watched the woodpecker.

It continued to circle them ominously, beating against the trees around them. Emma was so preoccupied by the bird, she didn't notice the Captain's approaching hand until his fingers began to weave in between hers.

"Stay close to me," he whispered.

An odd grunt from several feet ahead of them caught their attention, and Jones drew his sword.

A large, wild pig emerged from behind a bush and began pacing in front of them, squealing anxiously.

"What the devil is possessing these creatures?" the Captain asked, just as Emma caught sight of a dark blue cloth wrapped around the pig's neck.

The cloth was identical to the kerchief Hale had been wearing earlier.

"Captain," she began—hoping her suspicions were wrong but knowing that there was a chance they were right. "I don't think these are just creatures. I think they might be—"

"Your companions," a woman's voice interrupted from behind them.

Jones turned them quickly, keeping their hands interlocked and drawing Emma behind him, as they faced the woman.

She was beautiful—Emma could see that immediately. The woman had light red hair, kissed by streaks of blonde in the sunlight, and her skin was radiant and smooth. Emma suddenly realized as she stared that she could see entirely too much of the woman's skin. She wore a thin lavender dress made of silk that draped down from her neck, leaving her arms, sides, and the dip between her breasts exposed.

"Are you thieves, like your associates?" the woman asked.

"We are not thieves," the Captain stated. "We are in need of supplies, and we are more than willing to make payment for them."

"I've already started collecting my payment," she replied, gesturing to the pig that appeared to be Hale and the woodpecker that Emma now thought was Pickett.

"Why would you do something like that?" Emma demanded.

"Because this is my island," the woman answered harshly, "and no one steals from Circe."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! I cannot say how much I appreciate the kudos, comments, and bookmarks.
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!

Killian didn't remember where he was or how he'd arrived here. All he knew was that his entire body ached.

As his mind started to clear, he recognized he was lying face down in the dirt, and he remembered the events leading up to this.

There was a woman. She'd turned his crewmen into animals, according to what she'd told Killian and Swan.

_Swan._

The princess had been standing next to him. He pushed his arms against the ground, lifting himself up to search his surroundings.

He was no longer in the jungle, but rather in dark room. There was a small amount of light entering the space from a hole in the ceiling, but there were no doors or windows in the walls that Killian could see.

His eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and he could discern a still form beside him.

It was Swan, laying on her side. Killian turned her toward him, letting her lie flat. He pressed his fingers to her neck and felt relieved to pick up on her pulse and breathing.

"Swan," he whispered, trying to wake her, but he knew that name didn't hold the same meaning for her as it did for him. She didn't move, so Killian tried again, "Princess."

Again, she didn't stir and her breathing didn't change.

"Emma," he said more firmly, and he saw her head shake before her eyes opened, a startled look in them.

She scrambled away from him, backing up using her hands until she was pressed against a wall.

"It's alright," Killian said, trying to reassure her. "It's me."

"Is it?" she asked.

"Who else would I be?" he questioned.

"I don't know," she replied. "I just met someone who could turn a person into an animal. My guess is that she could change her own appearance as well."

"You think I'm that Circe woman?"

"You could be," the princess said cautiously.

"I'm Killian Jones," he began, trying to earn her trust. "I'm Captain of the _Jewel of the Realm_. Until late, I was a Lieutenant in service of King Francis. I met you after the witch Cora had you kidnapped and brought aboard my ship. She was also the reason we were sent to this cursed place."

"You should ask me questions too," Swan said.

"Why?"

"We're dealing with a possible shapeshifter, based on her abilities," she explained. "She might be able to impersonate either one of us."

"Very well," Killian replied. "Tell me what I gave you right before we left the ship."

"A compass and a cutlass—neither of which I seem to have with me now."

"I don't have my weapons either," Killian said.

"Great," Swan said sarcastically. "You know what the legends say about Circe, right?"

"Aye," he answered. "She used to lure sailors to her island and keep them as her pets, and apparently the latter part of that story was more literal than some storytellers thought."

"I'm not sure if she's the real Circe or not, but she is definitely following the pattern in the legend."

"I don't remember the stories mentioning a way to defeat her," Killian added.

"The last thing I can recall was something about banishment, which—given where we are—might explain why she's here," she said.

"But it doesn't help us figure out a way to escape this cell."

A shuffling sound from beyond the wall caused both Killian and Swan to look up in the direction of the noise. Killian quickly moved to his feet and offered his hand to the princess to help her up as well. He placed himself between Swan and the sound that seemed to be drawing nearer.

It stopped suddenly, and a small beam of light appeared where the wall met the floor. Killian's eyes stayed fixed on the strange light, as it began to move upward, over, and then back down again, until it had formed the outline of a door.

The piece of wall within the outline vanished before Killian's eyes, and he could see the source of the noise standing on the other side.

"It's a gorilla," he said, staring at the large animal.

"Look at the necklace," the princess added, and Killian glanced at the unfamiliar gold chain holding a large ruby. "I don't think he's one of your crew."

"Which means he may only be loyal to Circe," he said, keeping one of his arm's at Swan's side, trying to make sure she stayed behind him.

"What do you want?" the princess asked the ape.

The gorilla pointed at them, and then pointed to the now visible hallway. He wanted them to go somewhere.

"If we're to venture out of this cell, you'll be leading the way, mate," Killian told the animal, not wanting to lower his guard and allow for a possible attack from behind.

The gorilla grunted and began walking away. He turned back after a few paces to make sure they followed. Killian moved forward, and he could perceive Swan walking just a step behind him.

He felt her fingers reach out and lock with his.

"Be careful," she whispered. "Avoid food or drink, and be wary if she offers you anything."

Killian squeezed her fingers in acknowledgement. He understood her warnings. The legends of Circe often described men falling under her spell after feasting.

The gorilla proceeded to lead them up a cavernous stone staircase. There were still no windows. The only light came from torches hanging from the walls.

It took time, but Killian could finally see an end to the stairs—and with it, the first hint of sunlight since the small amount that had entered their cell. The light brightened as they reached the last of the stairs, and Killian could see its source as soon as they entered a small hallway at the top.

The hall led into a large room supported by rows of marble columns and only three walls. The fourth side was open, and it gave Killian a clear idea of where they were on the island. This room was on a cliffside, overlooking the center of the island. Beyond the far shore, Killian could see the _Jewel,_ waiting for their return.

He made a note of their location, trying to determine the fastest way to make it back to the longboats.

"Thank you, my darling, for bringing our guests here," a woman's voice said from the other end of the room.

Killian turned to see Circe, moving to sit at the head of a long table. The gorilla walked up and pulled out her chair for her, and Circe petted him fondly on his arm in return.

Once she was seated, other animals began to approach the table from every corner of the room. Bright birds flew overhead to take up perches closer to Circe, and a variety of four-legged beasts ambled toward her.

Killian felt Swan's fingers tighten around his, and her other hand gripped his upper arm as she pressed herself against him. He turned his gaze to follow the princess' and saw a snake—larger than the mast of his ship—slithering along the floor near their feet. Killian led them both a step to the side to distance themselves from the creature.

"You two," Circe began, and Killian looked back at the woman to see that her eyes were now fixed on them. "What are you doing on my island?"

"We're travelers," Killian replied. "We didn't know this island was occupied when we came here merely to restock our supplies."

"And what were you prepared to offer in return for the splendors in which you partook?"

"We sought only food and freshwater," he stated firmly. "Nothing more."

"Your men sought a great deal more than food and water when they realized what this island had to offer," Circe replied.

"We have gold," Killian said, wondering if the purse they had onboard the _Jewel_ would be enough to cover the woman's needs.

"Boring," she said, exasperated.

"What do you want?" Swan demanded.

"Now that is a much more interesting question," Circe said. "You see I could always add you both to my menagerie with a snap of my fingers."

As she spoke, her hand mimicked her words, and the noise sent an uproar amongst the animals. Squawks, squeals, and grunts sounded throughout the room, until Circe raised a hand to silence all of them.

"But that would be a bit boring too," she said. "As you can see, I have quite the collection already."

Circe did have a number of beasts in this room and potentially more creatures on the island that answered to her. Killian wanted to know if all of his crewmen on the island had been transformed, or if it was just Hale and Pickett.

"So I believe the real question is—what do I want that either of you could provide to me—wouldn't you agree? But where are my manners? It's been so long since I've properly hosted humans, I almost forgot to offer you both a bit of rest and food," Circe said.

As she spoke, a brown bear pulled out the chair on her right, and an orangutan pulled out the chair on her left.

"Do have a seat," she told them.

Killian knew they didn't have a choice in the matter. The minute they disobeyed, the princess might be turned into a literal swan, and he could only guess what sort of creature she would turn him into.

He gave Swan's hand one last squeeze before stepping towards the chair on the right, and the princess went to the chair opposite him.

"How splendid is this?" Circe said. "Now you both must be famished. Please help yourselves."

With a wave of her hand, trays of food appeared across the table—meats, fruits, and all manner of sweet delicacies. Next to his plate, a goblet appeared, and Killian watched as it filled itself with a deep red wine.

In that moment, Killian felt hunger gnawing at his belly and a desperate thirst in his throat. He didn't know if the feelings were real or if this strange woman was casting some sort of spell to influence him, but the look on her face suggested that this was all part of her trap.

Killian rested his left hand on the table and clenched it into a fist, knowing he would damn himself if he gave into Circe's offer. His eyes went to Swan's, and he could see concern there. He remembered her warning. He had no interest in being Circe's pet, so he touched nothing on the table. Swan did the same.

"Aren't you two interesting?" Circe questioned, before plucking a grape from a tray in front of them. She closed her eyes and moaned when she bit down on the piece of fruit. Her fingers then brushed against Killian's hand as she reached for another morsel from the table. "Are you sure I can't tempt you with something?" she asked.

"We just want to know what it will take to leave this island," Killian replied.

"All of your companions that are now on this island or just you, Captain, and the people you left behind on your ship? The cost will differ depending on the request."

"All of us," Killian answered. "I'm not leaving anyone behind."

"Pity," Circe replied. "I could have had some fun with at least a few new pets."

Killian didn't care for the way the woman's gaze had shifted toward Swan as she spoke.

"What will the cost be for all of us to leave?" he asked impatiently.

"Very well. To business then," Circe began. "I need one of you to accomplish a task that will end my banishment in this godforsaken realm."

"I thought the only means of escape was to spend the required amount of time in this place," Swan questioned.

"Not for everyone," Circe explained. "For those of you common folk who manage to find yourselves trapped here, yes, you serve your sentence and then you go home free and clear. For those of us who've been cursed to remain here, there are limited opportunities for escape."

"How can you escape then?" Killian asked.

"Apparently, I need to undo a great tragedy I caused before my banishment."

"How can we help with something like that?" Swan asked in disbelief. "We're stuck here just like you—how can we undo something you did outside of the Timeless Sea?"

"Because this tragedy was sent here with me. Right now, it resides in the center of the island," she stated.

" _It resides_?" Killian repeated, wanting to know exactly what this tragedy was.

"I may have turned a rival into a hideous monster when she attempted to steal away the attentions of a rather tasty human."

"So how are we supposed to undo you turning this woman into a monster?" Swan asked.

"There's a cure that must be administered, and a reunion must take place."

"Why haven't you given the cure to the monster before now?" Killian asked.

"Because I'm not permitted to deliver the cure," she answered. "Someone else must carry out the task, and they must do so willingly."

"And no one else who's visited this island has been willing?" Swan asked.

"Looking back," Circe began, "I believe they lacked the proper motivation." She looked around the room at the various animals that served her before she continued, "They only wanted the immediate rewards that I could provide to them."

"They wanted to be like this?" Swan questioned.

"No, my dear girl," Circe replied. "They wanted everything I could offer to them, and they didn't care if it cost them their human form. They were much more interested in my delights than in some sort of quest. You and your captain, though, present me with such a different opportunity."

"How so?" Killian asked.

"Because, Captain, I already have the crewmen you brought to this island, and with a wave of my hand, I can have all the others from your ship. And believe me, they will share the same fate as your associates here. With that sort of leverage at stake, I'm sure you'll be willing to handle this task," Circe looked down at the pig that was once Hale as she spoke, but then turned her gaze back to Killian. "And if that's not motivation enough for you to succeed, I'll be happy to torture your princess until you feel willing to assist with my problem," she threatened.

The gorilla started to move toward Swan. Killian was ready to fight off the beast barehanded if he had to, but one look at Swan kept Killian in his seat. She hadn't flinched, instead the princess just stared down Circe.

"And what happens when the Captain succeeds?" Swan asked, without any doubt or hesitation in her voice regarding whether Killian could accomplish the task.

"You wish to discuss a reward?" Circe questioned. "Your lives aren't enough?"

"You're asking for an end to centuries of banishment—that has to be worth more to you than just a few lives," the princess replied.

"What do you have in mind?"

"In addition to our lives, we'll also need the members of the crew restored to their human forms—"

"Easy enough," Circe interrupted.

" _And_ ," the princess continued firmly, "you will return us to our ship and send us back to the waters of my kingdom."

"I can't provide you with a means of leaving the Timeless Sea before your years are up," Circe replied. "That is beyond my ability."

"Very well then. As an alternative, you will fill the hold of our ship with freshwater and food supplies—as much as the ship can carry," Swan stated with authority.

"Demanding creature, aren't you?" Circe said, almost gleefully. "You're making me hope that your captain fails, and then I can keep for my own devices."

"What needs to be done?" Killian asked, knowing that he could not afford to fail.

A cloud of billowing, blue magic surrounded Circe's hand before dissipating and revealing a sapphire sphere the size of an apple.

"This is the cure," she began. "It needs to be ingested by my old friend, and it will return her to her former state."

"What is her current state like?" Swan asked.

"Do you know the stories of the beast known as Scylla?" Circe asked, and Swan nodded. "Well, that's her," Circe explained. "Six heads at the top of her body, springing from long serpentine necks—those heads have four eyes each and jaws containing three rows of shark's teeth. Along her waist are the heads of a few rather feral dogs, and beneath those you'll find the tentacles of a squid—with a few razor sharp additions—and a cat's tail for good measure."

"Let both of us go to deliver the cure," Swan said, after hearing the description of the monster. "The two of us would have an easier time with this task than just one."

"It has to be just one, willing individual—those are the rules," Circe replied. "And look at what you've allowed to happen to yourself," the woman said as she grabbed Swan's right arm and held it aloft—the leather cuff clearly visible. "If you couldn't prevent something like that from happening, you won't stand a chance against that monster—but you would still make an excellent plaything here."

Killian grabbed the orb from Circe's hand and stood, putting the round sapphire in his coat pocket. "I'll deliver the cure," he said. "And you will fulfill Swan's conditions and one of my own—no harm will come to either Miss Swan or my crew while I am accomplishing this task."

"Your terms are acceptable, Captain," Circe replied. "But know this—I don't consider it harm if I'm just giving them something they want—what they beg for. Or if I'm defending myself should they decide to become rebellious. And keep in mind, the minute you fail, your crew and Miss Swan—they'll all be mine, and I'll do with them as I please."

Killian had no reply for the deity before him. He knew he couldn't fail—it would cost him everything he had, and he wasn't willing to lose anything more. He strode away from them, headed toward the hallway and what appeared to be an exit from this place.

"Wait," he heard Swan say, before she made her way to join him at the far end of the table, and Killian halted.

The princess turned back to Circe and said, "His weapons—you need to return those to him if you're expecting him to do this on his own."

"Very well," the woman replied. "Although it would've been far more interesting to watch him try to handle this task without them."

With a wave of Circe's hand, his sword and knife were returned to his belt, and then Swan's eyes went back to his.

She closed the small space between them and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Killian welcomed the embrace. His arms went around her lithe form and pulled her toward him tightly, as a now familiar warmth spread through his body at her touch.

"Be careful, Captain," she whispered into his ear. "Don't try to take on each head on its own—the other heads will just attack you at that same time. Try to find a way to distract them all at once. And be careful afterward—I'm not sure whether Circe will be done with us, even after you succeed."

Killian knew she was trying to help him in the only ways she could under these circumstances. She couldn't go with him, so she was imparting her knowledge to him.

And she was trying to make him believe that he would survive this task and save them all. She'd said _after_ he succeeded, rather than _if_.

She believed in him.

"Come back to me," Swan added, and her breath upon his neck and the desperation he could hear in her voice made him want for more than he'd ever allowed himself to dream of before.

"Enough!" Circe's voice sounded, bringing Killian's moment of peace to a shattering end. "Lead him down to Scylla, darling," she said to the gorilla, and Killian stepped away from the princess.

The gorilla began to lead him toward a hallway out of the room, and Killian turned to look back at Swan only once. Their eyes met, and he gave her a brief but firm nod, hoping that she would understand.

He was making a promise. He would come back to her, no matter what it took.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks received for this story! Your support is truly motivational, and I welcome your feedback.
> 
> There are some rough seas ahead for our characters, but it'll be worth it in the end.
> 
> Now, as always, thank you for reading!

In her monstrous form, the twenty-foot tall Scylla occupied a deep lake at the center of the island. Killian found the spot easily enough, after his gorilla guide abandoned him to the jungle, but it was clear from one glance that coaxing Scylla out and forcing the large sapphire down one of its many throats was not going to be an easy task.

Killian decided to heed Swan's advice. The heads worked as one—it would be impossible to go after a single head in isolation without the others tearing him to pieces. He observed Scylla for some time, looking for possible weaknesses, yet on the surface, there appeared to be none.

But then he caught sight of the cat's tail attached to the creature. Roughly ten feet long, the tail was on the side of the beast opposite its numerous heads, and Killian noticed that Scylla would move purposefully to keep the tail away from potential threats—as if it were a vulnerable point.

With that information in mind, Killian set a diversion in the trees near Scylla's heads and then made his way to the side of the beast with the tail. Killian threw one well-aimed rock at his intended target, and the branches and stones he'd gathered came tumbling down to the jungle floor. The noise was loud enough to draw the attention of Scylla's heads, and he knew this was his chance.

In that moment, Killian dived forward and stabbed the tail with his sword, pinning it to the ground. All the heads turned upward in response, howling in pain, and the tentacles thrashed about. Killian lobbed the sapphire at the nearest yelping dog's head, and the stone hit its mark. He watched as the dog choked down the object, and he was grateful that the beast didn't cough it back up.

Unfortunately, Scylla's transformation back to her original form was not instantaneous. The tentacles continued to strike out, and two managed to connect with Killian's body. The first collided with his midsection. The blow tossed him to the ground and knocked the wind out of him.

The second hit was worse, though. Instead of encountering the hard exterior of the limb, Killian was struck by the razor sharp spikes on the underside of the tentacle. They pierced through his skin just below his left collar bone. The cuts were brutal, and the sand he rolled into afterward only intensified the bitter sting.

Killian mustered what strength he could to rise and make his way to the tree line. Once there, he took the long cloth from his cravat to bandage his wound while waiting for the transformation to take place. After several minutes, he saw that a brunette woman had replaced the monster.

"Circe!" Scylla screamed as soon as she'd regained her ability to speak. "I'm going to kill you, bitch!"

"Join the club," Killian replied.

"Circe turned me into the monster you saw. She deserves to die," she stated defensively, as if she expected Killian to disagree.

"I'll not stand in the way of your vengeance, but I would ask a favor of you," Killian said.

"You are the one responsible for my freedom. I suppose I owe you at least one favor."

"Thank you," Killian began, before explaining the deal he and Swan had made with Circe for the restoration and freedom of his crew.

"You want time, is that it?" Scylla asked, after hearing his story.

"Aye," he answered. "Time enough to rescue my crew and my…." He stopped himself before he voiced a claim on someone he had no real right to. "And to rescue the woman I'd mentioned, and time for all of us to be returned to my ship."

"I've lived for centuries in the form you witnessed," she said darkly. "I can wait one more hour before I make Circe pay for her crime."

"I'll make the most of it," Killian told her, before venturing back down the path to Circe's.

* * *

The first thing Killian saw when he reached Circe's great hall was Swan. She was sitting, her back pressed against a wall and her head slumped against her knees. From the position, he couldn't tell if she was just resting or if she'd been hurt.

"Swan!" he cried from the entryway.

"Captain?" she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She stood and crossed the distance of the room quickly. Once again, she draped her arms around him.

Perhaps it was the pain from his wounds or his general exhaustion after this tiring day, but the embrace didn't feel the same as it had just a few hours ago. There was no pleasant warmth enveloping him and giving him comfort, but Killian also knew there was no time to try to recapture what he'd experienced in that prior moment.

He needed to find Circe, have her undo her magic on his crew, and send them all back to his ship.

"Swan," he said, taking hold of her hands and removing them from the back of his neck. "Have you seen Circe?"

"No," she answered. "Seeing you again is all that matters to me."

"We need to have her free the men and get back to the ship," Killian insisted.

"We have time," Swan said, freeing one of her hands and moving it to rest upon his cheek.

Killian couldn't deny he wanted this. He'd nearly kissed her before he went to face Scylla. If Circe and her pets hadn't been there, he probably would've pressed his lips against hers. So often, he'd experienced an intense emotion just being around her, and when he touched her, that feeling radiated throughout his body. He ached to know what it would feel like to claim her lips.

They didn't have time now, though. Killian knew they needed to leave as soon as possible, but Swan didn't seem to see it that way.

She closed the small gap between them and kissed him.

And it wasn't what Killian wanted. He knew that immediately.

There was no warmth, no indescribable feeling…

_No magic._

It was the same feeling he'd had kissing barmaids in dark corners of taverns—nothing more.

And that's when he realized—this wasn't his Swan.

Killian pushed the woman away.

"Circe!" he exclaimed.

"What gave me away?" Circe said, still wearing Swan's face.

"Where is she?" Killian demanded.

"Unharmed, as we agreed," she replied casually. "Now I need you to answer questions for me, Captain."

With a wave of her hand, he was forced into a nearby chair. Thick vines appeared out of the arms and legs of the chair that bound Killian to the seat.

"Release me!" he yelled, struggling against the vines.

"I will," she said, "but not just yet. First, you'll tell me what I need to know—once we're both comfortable."

The vines tightened around him, and Circe positioned herself in his lap, straddling his legs while she still looked like the princess.

"That's better, isn't it?" she questioned—her tone conveying that she knew this was torture for him. "The first thing I want to know is whether you were successful with your task. You came here acting as if you were, but I don't see Scylla anywhere."

"She wanted time alone once she was human again," he replied.

"You mean she wanted time to plan out how she was going to try to kill me?"

Killian tried to form the words to disagree with her, but she stopped him.

"I knew that's how she would react," Circe said. "She's tried to kill me before—I'll be ready for her, and if you're a very good boy, I'll let you and your companions leave the island before she and I have our reunion."

"What else do you want to know?" Killian snapped at her.

"I want to know more about you and your princess—and why I can't seem to make either of you succumb to me. There have been very few people I've encountered who can resist me," she answered. "I tried asking your Swan a few questions about it, but she proved to be just as uncooperative as you're being."

"You said she was unharmed," Killian said angrily, trying to break free from the vines and wanting desperately to make sure the princess was safe.

"Right now, you wouldn't be able to say I've harmed you, now would you?" Circe asked, whispering the words in his ear before nipping at his lobe. "I questioned her in a similar manner. I just wore your face rather than hers for that particular conversation."

Killian's blood was boiling. He wanted to kill Circe for going anywhere near his Swan. He didn't know exactly what might have happened, but it infuriated him to know that Circe had threatened the princess while pretending to be him.

The vines around his right wrist broke from the strain he'd placed on them, and he quickly grabbed Circe by throat.

"Impressive, Captain," she gasped out before a cloud of magic engulfed them both. He was suddenly standing at one end of the room, and Circe was at the other, back in her normal form. "I've rarely seen such a gift, and I saw something similar in your Swan."

"Where is she?" Killian demanded, as he drew his sword.

"Back in her cell," she replied. "Her belongings have been returned to her. All you need to do is convince her to leave and then head to the same exit you used to reach Scylla. Your crewmen will be waiting for you there—some worse for wear but all alive. Your ship will be stocked with supplies as soon as your longboats are in the water. I'm keeping to my end of our agreement—even if I would now much rather keep you all as pets."

Circe's eyes started to travel down his body appraisingly, but Killian had no interest in hearing any further thoughts from the woman. He moved down the stone staircase as quickly as his legs could carry him.

He needed to see Swan with his own eyes.

* * *

"Out of the way, ape!" Emma heard a voice yell from down the hallway.

It sounded like the Captain's voice, but she'd thought she'd heard Jones returning an hour ago, and she'd been horrified to realize it was just Circe pretending to be her Captain.

The gorilla that had been guarding her door moved at the command, and that put Emma on edge. Circe's pets answered to Circe—why would they follow an order from Jones?

She saw the man in question rush through the doorway with his sword in hand.

"Swan?" he asked, desperation apparent in his voice. "It is you, isn't it?"

Emma stood at the far end of the cell and raised her cutlass at the person in front of her.

"Who are you?" she asked firmly.

"I've just had an encounter with a twelve-headed monster and a woman who tried to claim she was my Emma Swan," he replied. "Please just confirm to me it's really you, and I'll prove to you it's me."

She could hear the truth in his voice. Her Captain had never called her " _his Emma Swan_ ," but until today, she'd never felt the need to call him " _her Captain_." The man before her was not the same being that had visited her earlier, but in case she was wrong—in case Circe had improved her tricks and was trying to fool her again, she planned to keep her blade raised until she heard his confirmation.

"I'm Princess Emma of Misthaven, and you gave me the name Emma Swan to use on your ship because of my pendant," she said.

"That's a bloody relief," the Captain said, as he lowered the sword in his right hand. "Did she hurt you?" he asked hurriedly. "She said she questioned you while wearing my face—did she hurt you?"

"You said you'd prove to me who you are," she insisted.

"Of course," he replied somberly. "I'm Killian Jones, Captain of the _Jewel of the Realm_ , and we were both there the night Cora crushed my brother's heart," he said, clearly biting back the pain his words brought to him.

It was her Captain—she could see that plainly. Her sword dropped to the ground as hours of tension drained from her body.

She walked toward him, and for the second time today, Emma put her arms around him. His free hand went to the small of her back to keep her there, pressed against him.

"Please tell me, princess," he whispered in her ear, "did she hurt you?" There was a tremor in his voice, as if he wanted to know the answer but feared what it might be.

"She didn't have much of a chance to," Emma answered, not eager to relive her encounter with Circe. "She came here as you, but I knew it wasn't you. She kept interrogating me, and during one of threats, Hale came up and bit her in the leg."

The memory returned to the forefront of Emma's mind. She stopped thinking about what Circe had put her through and instead focused on the sailor that had tried to help her. Emma pulled back from the Captain slightly, her hands moving to his shoulders so she could look him in the face.

"She hurt Hale. She shoved him against the wall, and he was injured," Emma explained quickly. "I don't know how badly. He was still able to walk away, but he was clearly in pain just because he tried to help me."

She looked at the Captain, and she could suddenly see that he was making an effort to hide a grimace from his features.

Emma pulled her hands away from his shoulders, and she could see traces of a damp, dark liquid on her fingers.

"You're hurt too! Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were my priority, princess, and this wound is hardly a scratch," he replied. "I'll have Flynn see to it once we're back on the _Jewel,_ and he'll see to Hale as well. Circe told me that all of the men are alive—worse for wear—but alive."

"Then, we should go," she said. "The sooner we leave, the sooner Flynn can help you both."

"Aye, princess, let's leave this cursed island," the Captain replied.

Emma nodded and retrieved her cutlass from the ground, when she looked up, the Captain had his hand extended out to her once again.

It was the same offer that he'd made earlier in the day, when she'd stepped out of the longboat—a hand to support her.

She realized then that the last few hours had changed things between them.

This time, Emma accepted his hand without hesitation.

* * *

Now that they were again human, the crewmen were eager to depart the island.

"Are you certain it's not hurting you to row?" Emma asked Hale for a second time, as she could clearly see bruises on his face in the bright sunlight, and his breathing seemed labored. Gibbons was helping him row for the return journey, but Emma wondered if he should be exerting himself at all.

"I'm fine, Miss," Hale replied. "Better than fine now that I've got hands again, instead of hooves."

When they reached the ship, though, Hale could no longer hide the extent of his injuries. He nearly collapsed on the deck once they were onboard.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Hale repeated, but Emma could tell the man was sweating—not from the sun, but from pain.

"Get Flynn up here now," the Captain ordered.

The surgeon arrived and assessed the sailor's injuries. Hale had been hiding a dislocated shoulder beneath his jacket, hoping he could find a way to set it once he returned to the ship. "I hate people causing a fuss," Hale grumbled.

"You'll hate it more if you lose the ability to use that arm. Give me an hour and I should at least have it set," Flynn replied before turning to the Captain. "Shall I see to your shoulder first, sir? That looks like a fair amount of blood on your jacket."

"See to Hale first," Jones replied. "I need to check the hold to make sure that trip was worth our efforts."

The Captain gave quick orders to Warren to set sail, and then proceeded below deck.

Emma couldn't believe him. He'd just faced a monster of legend, and he wasn't going to have his wounds tended to before resuming his duties.

She followed him down to the hold, clenching her fists in frustration as she walked. If only she had her magic, she could have healed both Hale and the Captain in moments. Now, Emma just felt useless.

If she didn't have the ability to heal them herself, though, she was at least going to try to talk sense into the Captain to visit Flynn sooner rather than later.

"Captain," she called to him as soon as they were below deck and out of earshot of the crew.

"Aye, Swan?" he said, turning toward her in the small hallway.

"You need to let Flynn see to that injury before bothering with what's in the hold," she told him.

"No, Swan, what I need to do is make sure that my men have the supplies they'll need to make it for at least a few months on these waters without having to traipse through another demon-infested island," Jones replied.

"Your men need their Captain alive and well," Emma argued.

"I've survived worst scrapes than this."

"Fine," she stated. "But just prove it to me. Let me see the injury, and if I agree with you, I'll leave you be."

"Flynn is seeing to Hale now," Jones said. "I'll visit the surgeon after my crewman has been seen to."

"If your injury truly can wait for you to conduct a thorough inspection of the hold, then let me see it," she repeated her request.

"And then you'll leave me be?" he asked, clearly frustrated, but he moved his hand to his collar and peeled back the fabric.

His shirt was soaked with blood around his shoulder. He'd managed to tie some sort of cloth around it to slow the bleeding, but Emma could tell from the stains that the wound was serious.

She lifted the cloth and saw three deep gashes several inches long just below his collar bone.

"Come back with me to my cabin," Emma said, as she put the cloth back in place over the wound.

"You said you'd leave me be," he replied, and Emma could pick up on a weariness in his voice that concerned her.

"I said I'd leave you be if I agreed with your assessment of your injury," she stated. "I don't agree with it, so if you won't see Flynn now, I'm at least going to clean that wound for you."

She took his hand this time and led him back down the corridor to her cabin. She closed the door behind them, before managing to convince him to remove his jacket, open up his shirt collar, and take a seat.

"You should've let Flynn see to this first," Emma said angrily, as she inspected the wound more thoroughly. "Hale just needed to stop pushing himself and have his shoulder set; he could've waited at least for a little while."

"He deserved to be seen first," Jones replied, as Emma went to retrieve a bottle of alcohol she'd seen in one of the cabinets.

"You can act noble all you want, Captain, but you aren't doing your crew any favors by not taking care of yourself. Your men need you," she said firmly.

"No one needs me," the Captain argued. "Hale was the one who saved you, not me."

"Is that what this is about?" Emma questioned. "You think Hale deserves the surgeon's care first because he helped me?"

"Aye, it's the truth of it," Jones said resignedly.

"Hale helped me because you were busy saving all of us," she stated, before pouring alcohol on a clean cloth and applying it to the wound.

He flinched slightly at the sting, but Emma noticed that he'd stopped arguing with her at least.

"I wish I had my magic," she said softly, knowing how much pain the Captain had to be in.

"I don't," he replied sternly.

"Why? I could've healed both you and Hale with a wave of my hand, and you wouldn't have to be going through any of this," Emma said.

"You wouldn't be here. You'd be back home if you had your magic," Jones replied, placing his hand on hers as she held the cloth to his wound.

When his skin touched hers, Emma recognized—not for the first time—that she no longer felt cold. It was as if their connection was keeping the chilling effect of Cora's cuff at bay. Emma thought back to all the times she had touched him in the last few days, and she couldn't remember feeling cold during any of those moments. It was part of the reason she'd realized that Circe wasn't her Captain.

When Circe had tried to touch her, there'd been no reprieve from the cold, and Emma had known that something was wrong.

She couldn't explain it. The sensation she felt had the appearance of some kind of magic, but it wasn't any sort of magic Emma was familiar with.

She tried to clear her head of these thoughts, though. She needed to help the Captain, and she wasn't doing him any good by contemplating something she couldn't explain.

"I should put together a balm from some of the items in Cora's trunk. It should help diminish the pain you must be feeling, and work to reduce the risk of infection."

"Thank you, princess," he said, as he gently released her hand.

Almost immediately she regretted the loss of contact, and she found she couldn't just step away.

"Emma," she said.

"Sorry?" he questioned.

"No one calls me princess except for people who don't know me," she explained. "My friends and family all call me Emma. I think it's about time you call me Emma as well, Captain."

"Killian," he stated. "There's no one left on this ship who calls me by my given name now, but I'd like it if you would do so."

"Killian," she repeated as she remained standing in front of him. Emma knew she should move and start going through Cora's medicinal supplies, but his eyes were fixed on hers, and she found she couldn't move.

She didn't want to move.

And she couldn't help but wonder if he felt anything when she touched him.

Emma told her herself she was only acting on curiosity, but a part of her felt that it could be something more. No matter what was driving her, Emma suddenly found herself pressing her hand to her Captain's— _Killian's_ —cheek, and the strange, comforting sensation returned.

He answered her unspoken question without words, but instead by leaning into her touch. His eyes closed, and he released a sigh.

" _Captain_?" Murphy's voice called from the hallway outside, interrupting the moment. Emma pulled away in response and walked to the other side of the room.

"In here, Murphy," the Captain replied, and the deckhand soon entered the cabin.

"Forgive the intrusion, sir," Murphy began, "but Master Flynn is ready to see you. Hale wanted his arm set the fastest way possible. He's passed out in the surgeon's quarters from the pain of it, but Master Flynn says he'll be fine."

"Thank you, lad," the Captain said. "Please tell Flynn I'll visit him shortly."

Murphy went back the way he came, leaving Emma alone with the Captain once again.

"It appears I'll be following your advice and seeing Flynn sooner rather than later," he said.

"I'm glad to hear it," she replied.

"Emma…" he began, and she turned to face him once more.

"Yes, Killian?" she said, testing out the feel of his name on her tongue.

"May I join you for dinner again this evening?"

"I would like that," she answered, and she could see joy in his eyes at her response.

"As would I," he said, before holding out his hand to her, and she felt the connection running through her fingers the moment she placed her hand in his. He brought her hand up and pressed his lips softly against her skin.

He squeezed her hand one last time before releasing it and walking toward the door.

"Until tonight, Emma," Killian added from the entryway. He gave her one final look and then closed the door behind him, leaving Emma on her own, lost in a whirlwind of thought.

* * *

Walking to the surgeon's quarters, Killian found that he was no longer thinking about his injuries. Instead, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the woman he'd just parted with.

What he felt for her was unlike anything he'd experienced in his past. He'd been with women before—women who enjoyed the company of a sailor staying in port for a single night. Those dalliances had met his basic needs, but they had never been like this.

With Swan…with _Emma…_ Killian felt he might be driven mad one day. Her stubbornness was infuriating, and her strength and intellect constantly challenged him, but Killian now felt himself craving the struggles he had with her.

In his life, he'd never met a woman he wanted to win over entirely—mind, body, and soul. With Emma, though, he felt a desire he'd never known before. He wanted everything she could give, and he was willing to give her everything he had in return.

But that was when the truth hit him. He wanted more of her than he would ever deserve.

And what did he have to offer her?

She was a princess, and he was a commoner from a foreign land, and until a few days ago, he'd been at war with her people. He had no right to want her.

Should he just keep torturing himself by finding reasons to be close to her?

Or should he end this now and spare his heart the pain that would inevitably come when either the princess refused him or they found a way back home?

He would never see her again once she was returned to her kingdom. The kindness and warmth she'd shown him would cease the moment she was safe, and could he blame her? She owed him nothing, and the way she'd acted toward him so far was no doubt just a response to her situation.

Even if they never found a way back and were stuck here the next twenty eight years, that still wouldn't change their circumstances. Emma was alone here and under constant threat—and he'd been taking advantage of that.

Where was his good form now?

He knew he should curb these growing feelings, but anytime he was near her, he lost all control.

There was only one solution—he needed to keep his distance from her. He had to end this foolishness before he made things worse—for himself or for Swan.

He had to wake himself from this dream now while he could still bear it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented on, subscribed to, bookmarked, or left kudos on this story! You have no idea how much your feedback means to me. After a long workday, your support is the motivation I need to keep typing!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this latest installment and the teaser for the next arc at the end.
> 
> Now, as always, thank you for reading!

Emma had been onboard the ship for just over a month now.

Never one to be idle, she'd developed routines, learning the crew's work and helping in any way she could.

Killian— _the Captain_ —voiced no objections. In fact, he'd stopped speaking to her almost entirely. Emma couldn't understand what had happened.

Immediately after escaping Circe's island, she'd been hopeful about the bond developing between them, but later that evening, the Captain had sent word to her that he would not be joining her for dinner.

He'd also refused every invitation she'd sent after that.

She could only assume she'd offended him, but she didn't know how.

They still saw one another. The ship wasn't large enough for him to avoid her completely, but she was once again "Miss Swan" whenever he spoke to her. He also preferred to communicate with her through others, sending Murphy, Warren, or other crewmen to provide her with messages as needed. She did manage to convince him to accept an ointment for his wound directly from her, but he'd only thanked her in reply and said nothing more.

The Captain's coldness hadn't deterred Emma from finding some sort of life on the ship. Unlike Jones, Hale was immensely grateful for the balm she'd provided to him to relieve the pain in his shoulder. After using it, he'd said his arm had never felt better, and he'd sent other crewmen to her for remedies.

In exchange for her help, the men were more than willing to show her the operations of the ship, and Emma was eager to learn. They taught her about fishing, knot-tying, and all manner of tasks typical in the life of a sailor. The crew appreciated her fearlessness when faced with new challenges, and she appreciated their willingness to teach her.

She also spent a good bit of her time with Flynn, after receiving his help and finding out she had common interests with the ship's surgeon. Her mother and Regina had instructed her on the importance of botany and biology—for both survival and magic, and Flynn was an avid student of the subjects. He had various samples of plant and animal life onboard, and although none of these ingredients were strong enough to create a portal, many of them proved to be fascinating to Emma.

Flynn offered her access to all of his stores, including items from far off places she'd only read about, and he provided explanations on the appropriate uses. This resource allowed her to improve the treatments she gave to the crew, and she found she enjoyed working with the surgeon to help others.

Flynn also assisted Emma with the injuries she'd received on Circe's island—even though the worst part of the woman's interrogation hadn't left a physical mark. While assuming Killian's appearance, Circe had moved in to touch her skin. They were light caresses at first, fingers brushing along Emma's hand or cheek, but it was enough for Emma to know that it wasn't her Captain. When Circe realized that Emma knew the truth, the woman shoved her against the rocky wall of her cell, hard enough to scrape into the skin of Emma's back. Circe had forced her lips upon Emma's then, in the second unwanted kiss of the princess' life.

Emma had felt disgusted by what Circe was inflicting upon her. The assault was made worse by the fact that Emma now knew that she wanted to be kissed and by whom. She'd wanted to be in her Captain's arms in that moment and to feel his lips upon hers; she didn't want this cruel imitation Circe was pressing upon her. Emma had struggled to pull away from Circe at that point, and Hale provided enough of a distraction that she was able to escape Circe's grasp. Fortunately, the woman tried nothing further against Emma after that.

When she was back on the ship—after the adrenaline had worn off, the scrapes on her back offered her stinging reminders of their presence. Emma did what she could to clean and treat the injuries, but the angle proved difficult for her to manage on her own. She went to Flynn for help, and the surgeon provided her with aid—and with good conversation from that day forward.

Flynn was one of a handful of married men that served on the _Jewel_ , and he seemed to take delight in sharing stories of his wife and three young daughters with Emma. With so many women in her extended family, she could easily relate to Flynn's struggle to adapt to a primarily female household. She told him several of her father's stories from before Leo was born—leaving out names and any other details that might identify her as Misthaven's princess.

Emma felt guilty when Flynn spoke of his family, though, knowing that she was the reason he was so far away from them. She wondered at times whether she should summon the Dark One back and accept his offer. It would allow the crew to return to their families and not face twenty-eight years in this endless ocean.

But Emma found that she couldn't utter the Dark One's name in those moments. It might've been because of her own selfish desire to keep and raise any children she bore, but she knew it was also because of fear. Rumplestiltskin had said her magic was unique, and her child's would be as well.

She was afraid of what the Dark One might do with her child's power. He hadn't given her an exact reason why he would want her firstborn—or why Cora and Francis also wanted a child from her, and that unknown made a chill run down her spine.

Emma knew that the safest course of action was to deny all of these villains what they wanted from her, but that fact did little to ease her regret that the men onboard the _Jewel_ had to pay the price for her decision.

She was resolved to find a way for them to return home as soon as possible, and in the meantime, she would do what she could to make the crew's lives easier.

* * *

Killian's life was miserable.

He was still determined to stay away from Emma—from _Swan_ , even though it pained him. He hated seeing a smile fade from her face when he refused to speak with her or join her for dinner, but he continued to tell himself he was saving them both from despair in the long run.

He couldn't keep himself from staring, though. Whenever she spent time on the deck with the crew, he always found some reason to be at the helm. From there, he could at least enjoy the sight of her—however distant or momentary it might be.

Currently, she was fishing off the side of the _Jewel_ with Barton and Murphy, helping to bring in a fresh catch for the evening meal. Killian watched from the wheel as she struggled with a particularly difficult fish. The effort didn't upset her, but instead it brought the most pleasant sound of laughter Killian had ever heard.

In the end, the princess won the battle, and the joy upon her face was hard for Killian to bear. He wanted her to be happy, but he also found it impossible to deny that he wanted to share in her happiness. He wanted to be the source of her smiles, and the recipient of her kindness.

And he couldn't help himself—he wanted to take her in his arms again and this time lay claim to her lips. He wanted to feel her soft hand pressed against his cheek and hear his name whispered from her lips.

But these thoughts were absurd—Killian knew it. Even though she may not go by important titles or wear fancy dresses, she was still a princess.

"Captain, may I speak plainly with you?" Warren asked from beside him.

"Of course," Killian replied, preferring honesty from his crewmen.

"Well sir, I always want to be frank with you, as I was with your brother," his first mate stated.

"I appreciate that about you, Warren, and I value your opinion," Killian said.

"I hope you continue to do so, sir, even after I've spoken my piece."

"What's troubling you?" Killian asked, knowing that his first mate normally didn't display such hesitation when addressing him.

"Captain, I've spoken to the men," Warren began. "All of us—we want you to know we wouldn't be offended if you chose to take a wife."

"What?" Killian exclaimed—dumbfounded by his first mate's comment. "Why the blazes would you and the men be contemplating that?"

"We aren't blind, Captain," Warren replied. "Anyone could see how the two of you were together at first, but now you're choosing to distance yourself from her—even though you're doing a poor job of it. Asking for news of her from every man onboard, making excuses to be somewhere near to her—it's obvious you care for her. If you're worried how the men would react to something more between you and Miss Swan, you needn't be."

"You and the men are presuming a great deal," Killian insisted.

"Perhaps so," Warren said, "but it's not unheard of for a Captain to bring his wife along for a voyage."

"A voyage of one or two years possibly," Killian began, "but twenty-eight years? Not to mention…."

Killian stopped himself from voicing further reasons. He'd still not shared Emma's identity with anyone onboard. Perhaps that was why his men thought he was a good choice for her, but if they knew she was a stolen princess, they would no doubt think differently.

"It wouldn't be right," he stated simply.

"All the same, sir, the men wouldn't begrudge you if you chose differently," Warren said. "And she's a sweet lass, not to mention easy on the eyes. She'd make a good wife one day."

The last statement struck Killian more than he'd anticipated. Assuming they found a way out of the Timeless Sea, then without question, Emma would be a wife someday.

A part of him wanted to know how many suitors she had waiting for her at home. A future queen—stunning and warmhearted—she no doubt had a long line of royals and nobles longing for her return.

And a line of villains waiting to hurt her.

Killian wondered about the men with titles and riches who desired to win her hand. Were they ready to protect her from the threats that loomed around her? Would they have willpower enough to deny the Dark One himself to keep her safe?

He didn't know the answers to these questions, but he did know his own mind.

Emma already held a claim to his heart. It didn't seem possible—they'd only known each other for a matter of weeks, but there was already a deep connection between them. He'd felt it every time he touched her, and it seemed to charge the air surrounding them whenever they were close to each other.

It was like the energy that could be felt just before a storm approaches—powerful and unyielding.

Killian could avoid Emma all he wanted, but the feelings weren't going away. There was no way to deny what he felt—his men had even noticed it.

But what was the point? Princess Emma's future husband would have to be someone worthy of her in every way—and that wasn't Killian. He was fatherless and motherless, and he'd only escaped a life of indentured servitude because he had Liam's help. He was only a naval officer because of his brother's guidance and discipline, and he was now a ship's captain only by default.

A change in the wind drew Killian's attention away from his melancholy.

It was subtle. Emma's laughter could still be heard from the lower deck, but Killian shifted his gaze starboard—as did his first mate.

"Did you feel that, Captain?" Warren asked.

"Aye," Killian replied, his voice grave. "Have the men prepare for a storm."

* * *

Emma could remember being caught up in a storm during a carriage ride, traveling home from a neighboring kingdom. Both of her parents were in the carriage with her that night. Leo was only two and wrapped tightly in their mother's arms, while Emma sat snugly beside her father.

He had his arm around her shoulders, and he told her stories to try to soothe her.

Emma knew that there would be no comfort or calm for her tonight.

The storm had arrived suddenly. She was on the deck fishing one moment and the next, Warren was shouting orders, and Killian was by her side. He moved quickly—removing the fishing pole from her hands, giving it to Barton, and then guiding her below deck, one hand pressed firmly against the small of her back.

"Captain…" she began, wanting to know what was happening, but he cut her off.

"A storm is approaching," he said sternly, as they reached her cabin. "You'll stay below deck until Warren or Murphy lets you know that it's passed—and not a moment before. The weather may clear temporarily while we're in the eye, but it will come back with a vengeance. It would be dangerous for you to be on deck—do you understand?"

The question came out harshly, but Emma recognized the reason behind his tone. He was afraid—not for himself, but for her. She didn't know why he was so concerned, after the distance he'd put between them over the last few weeks, but still, she couldn't argue with him on this matter.

"Yes, I understand," she replied, and he moved to close the door. It didn't feel like enough. There was so much she wanted to ask him and say to him, but he was always pulling away from her now. She had his attention for this brief time—she wasn't going to just lose this opportunity to speak to him and perhaps receive one more word from him.

"Killian!" Emma called out hastily.

He stopped at the sound of his name and turned toward her. She wanted to run to him—to once again feel the safety and warmth of his embrace.

But there was a hardness in his eyes that kept her from moving.

She realized then that she must be a bother to him, a nuisance. He had other, more important things to worry about than the infatuation a princess might feel for him. Her foolishness was keeping him away from his responsibilities.

Emma decided that she needed to follow the Captain's example on this. She would keep her distance from his as well.

"Be careful," she said resignedly, hoping he would listen to those words.

He gave her a brief nod and then shut the door, leaving her on her own as the wind began to pick up outside.

* * *

The next hour was chaotic.

The ship rocked violently, and at first, Emma felt useless. Her magic could have provided them with some protection from the storm, but there seemed to be nothing she could do but wait. After every task she attempted in the cabin proved pointless, she finally made up her mind.

The Captain had told her to stay below deck, and she would do that. But he hadn't said she needed to stay in her cabin.

Emma packed up several bottles in a small wooden box and headed toward the surgeon's quarters. She hadn't heard any calls for medical attention yet this evening, but she could only assume people would need injuries treated before the night was done.

Flynn welcomed her into his room—a large space near the bow of the ship. He'd had the same idea as Emma—prepare for any trauma that might occur during the storm. He'd amassed a collection of bandages, splints, and other supplies that might be needed.

Emma set the box down and began making a few poultices to help heal lacerations and relieve pain. The work helped to distract her from the savage noises and movements surrounding them.

Throughout the night, men were brought down to the room, and Emma and Flynn did what they could to help them. She missed her magic fiercely, as they worked to set bones and stitch up cuts. Some of the men returned to work above deck after they received treatment, while others were taken to the crew's quarters to recover.

Flynn told her that this storm was unlike any he'd been through—lasting longer and appearing more intense than those in the waters back home.

"Master Flynn!" Warren called from the hallway. "We need you on the deck!"

Emma and the surgeon were stitching up a young man's leg, and Flynn handed her the needle so that he could go provide his assistance.

"You'll be safe in Miss Swan's care, lad," the surgeon reassured his patient. "She no doubt has a gentler touch than I have."

Emma made quick work of the wound. The sight of blood had never bothered her. She'd been skilled with healing magic for most of her life, so she was always willing to help people in need no matter what sort of injury ailed them.

Without her magic, though, the work was much harder. She felt her muscles stiffen, as she tried to remain in place while she tended to wounds. After a half hour of caring for the men on her own, she'd already sent two back to the deck, while one other was sent to his bunk to rest.

Emma began to wonder what was keeping Flynn so long when she saw the Captain coming down the hall, supporting Murphy. The deckhand had one arm draped over the Captain's shoulders, and his body slumped forward, stumbling as the ship pitched.

Emma was down the hall in moments, taking Murphy's other arm and helping the Captain to bring him to the surgeon's quarters.

"What happened?" she asked, as they lowered the unconscious boy to a bunk.

"The foremast snapped," Killian replied somberly. "It landed on Murphy, and a large splinter was embedded in his arm. Flynn was able to stop the bleeding and patch up the wound on the spot, but…"

"But what, Captain?" Emma asked, concern overwhelming her.

"But another piece of rigging fell," he answered, not looking at her.

"Where's Flynn?" she asked, knowing the surgeon wouldn't have left Murphy's side in his current state.

"There was nothing that could be done for him. It was quick," he said coldly, as his eyes finally met hers. "Can you see to the boy? As I said, Flynn…Flynn dealt with the worst of the wound, but Murphy will still need care to recover. And no doubt other men will tonight."

"Yes, Captain," she said automatically, her body and mind numb as she thought about the wife and daughters that Flynn left behind. She turned to Murphy and began dressing the young man's wounds, needing to think about something other than the loss of a good man.

"I must return above deck," the Captain added.

"Of course, Captain," she said simply, not trusting her voice to say anything further without wavering.

The tears came shortly after his departure.

* * *

Within three hours, dawn had broken and the waters were once again calm. The only remnants of the storm were the injuries and damages left in its wake.

Emma had seen to all the wounded men, helping those brought to the surgeon's quarters after Flynn's passing and checking on those that they'd seen to earlier that night.

Warren had finally told her to stop and try to rest, but Emma couldn't think about sleep. Her mind was too wrought with guilt. She kept working until it was time to lay Flynn to rest.

She went above deck then, and listened to the Captain speak about the man they'd lost. As she already knew, Flynn was a devoted husband and father, but he was also a good friend to the men onboard the ship. And she knew he'd been a good friend to her as well.

As she watched the body being dropped into the water, she couldn't help but feel that this loss was her fault. Emma was the reason they were stuck in this place and the reason they didn't have a way home yet.

How many more men were going to die or suffer because of her?

She couldn't stand the thought. As soon as the service was over, Emma fled to her quarters not even bothering to close the door behind her.

She knew what she had to do. She balled her hands into fists and tried to will herself to be brave.

"Rumplestiltskin," she said aloud, as she felt another tear fall down her cheek.

"Rumplestiltskin," she repeated, as her body trembled with anxiety, knowing the price she was about to pay.

"Rumple—"

A hand covered her mouth and stopped her from saying the name a third time.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Killian's voice asked from behind her, as she struggled to free herself and face him.

"Me? What are you doing?" she demanded of him.

"I'm not the one calling the Dark One here to solve my problems," he replied.

"I have to do something," she said. "I can't let anyone else die because of me."

"Flynn's death was an unfortunate accident," he stated. "It wasn't your doing."

"But he wouldn't have been here in the middle of that storm if it weren't for me," Emma explained.

"Calling on the Dark One now won't change that," Killian insisted.

"No, but it will prevent this from happening to anyone else on this ship."

"And what about you? What happens if you give up yourself or your child to the Dark One?" he asked angrily.

"Why would that matter to you?" she argued.

"Why wouldn't it matter?" he shouted in reply.

"It's obvious in the way you act toward me—how you never speak to me," she answered. "I'm nothing but a burden to you. And why wouldn't I be? I've brought nothing but pain and despair to you and your crew."

"You think that is the reason why I never speak to you?" Killian asked, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

"What other reason could you have?'

They remained silent for a few moments, as Emma watched the Captain wage some sort of internal battle. He was clearly struggling to find an answer, and Emma could only assume that meant she was right, and Killian didn't know how to admit it.

"You're wrong, princess," he replied finally. "My reasons for my behavior are my own, and although I lack the strength to confess them to you now, I swear to you my reasons are not what you currently assume. And I would also have you know that if you choose to hand yourself or your child over to the Dark One, it would be others that pay the price."

"Others? What others?" she questioned.

"Myself for one," he answered. "I am responsible for everyone onboard this ship, and that includes you. If anything should happen to you or if you should decide to give up your firstborn, I would pay a price for that. You would curse me to live with the regret of your sacrifice for the rest of my days."

"You only say that because you are honorable, Captain. But if you lose more of your men, don't you think you would feel differently?"

"No," he said without hesitation. "And if you can't believe me on that, then know there is someone else you'd be punishing with your decision."

"Who?" she demanded.

"Your husband," he replied.

"I'm unmarried, Captain."

"Aye, but one day you won't be," he began. "One day you'll have a husband, and how will you explain it to him that you've sold his child, his blood to the Dark One? It won't be just you paying the price then."

"But your men won't have to pay the price any longer—doesn't that matter to you?"

"That's not the only thing that matters to me, Emma."

Hearing her name from his lips again surprised her. She wondered at everything he was telling her, and everything he still concealed. He wouldn't explain the reasons for his coldness, and he wouldn't accept her justifications for summoning the Dark One. Based on the last month, it seemed like he didn't want her here, but based on the last few minutes, he was begging her not to go.

"Then tell me what else matters to you," she stated, trying to draw out complete answers from him.

"Emma…," he replied, his voice pleading.

" _Captain!_ " a voice called out, interrupting them. " _You're needed on deck, sir!_ "

"Your attentions are needed elsewhere," Emma told him, looking away from his steely blue eyes.

"Emma," he said sternly, taking her hand in his. "Please listen to me."

The warmth once again returned to her at his touch, and her eyes drifted back to his.

"What is it that you need to say, Captain?" she asked.

"More than I can say in these moments before I must leave you," he replied. "And that is why I must ask you—don't try to take the Dark One's deal. Wait at least until we've had time to speak before you make this decision."

"Does that mean you intend to speak to me again, or shall we return to silence after this?" she asked harshly.

"I deserve that," he said. "I know how I've acted, and now I'm asking for a chance to explain. Will you promise me you'll give me that chance?"

There was heartbreak and desperation in his voice, and even if Emma couldn't fully understand it, she found she couldn't refuse his request.

"Very well," she replied.

"Promise me, Emma," he demanded.

"Fine," she uttered. "I promise."

"Thank you," he whispered before placing a light kiss on the back of her hand.

She kept her eyes on him as he turned to walk out the door, and Emma was left hoping she didn't experience the same disappointment she'd felt the last time they'd parted like this.

* * *

Two men watched the broken ship on the horizon, approaching their small port town.

"You're certain this ship has what I need?" the taller and slimmer man asked, as he looked through his telescope at the vessel.

"I'm a man who trades in hard-to-find things," the shorter and stouter man replied. "This ship has exactly what you need."

"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to invite them for tea."


End file.
